Jack slow danced across the grass. The dusk light escaping
behind the bushes where fireflies twinkled. With smooth steps, he silently
approached a sparkling bug. His hands reaching toward the moon.
I watched cross-legged from the front lawn. Admiring his
dedication. Amazed at how old he looked. It feels like boyhood happened so
quickly. I can barely remember his sweet baby babble of mispronounced words.
Now he’s almost 6 years old. Growing long hair like a hockey
player. Obsessed with the difference between amphibians and reptiles. More
interested in his friends then his mom. And, devoted to learning to read this
summer. My little boy is just a boy now.
Traits of his babyhood have carried over. Like his nighttime
blanket and fascination with how everything works in this world. His silliness
and stubbornness. He would rather be outdoors then playing with toys.
But, his hands are now tough. His responses a little snarky.
His preference is a shower in the morning. And, his music interest is all his
own. The dirt under his nails is permanent from searching for worms to feed his
snake, Laser. I swear my voice is
pouring with pleasantry as I kindly ask him to remove his plate from the table.
Eyes rolling he says, “I’m just finishing my milk, mooooommm.” A warm shower in the morning wakes him up. His words.
And, his song requests switch from Luke Bryan to some rapper covered in tattoos
and gold chains.
My favorite boyhood moments are the little ones. Early
mornings when he asks me if his clothes match. His innocence shinning though
his eyes. The times he invites his little sister to play. His soft voice
showing her the steps to take as they pitch a fort together. The true laughter
that comes from a sarcastic remark I make. An understanding that had soared
over his head a year ago.
The jar of lightening bugs glows at my feet. Jack races over,
adds another one to the collection.
“I love you, bear,” I say.
He glances at me. “Love you too, mom.”
He darts away, still hung on catching the twinkling bugs.
“You’re going to have to let them go,” I call. Still stuck
in this boyhood moment.
“I know, I’m going to before we go inside,” he quietly calls
back.
I smile. I miss that little boy. But, I sure am glad I let
him go. Just in time to see this wonderfully intuitive and glowing kid in
front of me.