Archive for October 17th, 2015

Little baby
Did I tell you I love you today?
I picked you up and as if you and I were perfectly chiseled for one another, you curled warmly onto my chest and breathed your sweet, warm breath into my neck. I lay my hand upon you and knew that this is what love feels like. This is home. I whispered to you over and over I love you. Yes, I told you today.

Little toddler
Did I tell you I love you today?
I chased you and picked up after you and laughed with you and was silly with you. I read you that same story ten times and held you when you cried and held you again when you were tired. Somehow, your head found that spot on my chest and you lay down your head, damp with sweat from running, fingers idly playing with my hair as you nodded off and I whispered to you over and over I love you. Yes, I told you today.

My kindergartner
Did I tell you I love you today?
Dressed in your crisp, clean clothes, the new running shoes still stiff and making clomping sounds on the pavement. You tighten your little grip on my hand for just a moment, one moment for us before letting go and then, you’re gone. One second my baby, now my big child, moving with the others into the big bright classroom. You come home and your grin spans your whole face. Your world is now a colourful world full of new faces, new friends, new experiences. You tell me about it all in one breath. You are still talking through your supper, your bath, your bedtime routine. Sitting up in bed to hug me goodnight, after I’ve sung our song again, you rest your head on me and I whisper into your freshly washed hair over and over I love you. Yes, I told you today.

My middle school-er
Did I tell you I love you today?
Your mind buzzes constantly with the onslaught of thoughts and feelings that now fill your 12 year old head. What to wear, when to shower, do you tell her you like her? Do you smile at him? So many teachers, so many classes so many friends so many interests. Band, or book club? Sports or dance? You hit all the highs and all the lows, sometimes within the same hour. You need a ride, you need a phone, you need five dollars. You don’t want me to hug you in public anymore. You don’t want to hold my hand. But sometimes, at night, when the homework is done, you curl up next to me on the couch, let me put my arm around you and snuggle in, right into the same spot on my chest. I pull you close and whisper to you over and over I love you. Yes, I told you today.

My high school-er
Did I tell you today I love you?
Stress and pressure and pressure and stress. Worried about tests and relationships and why didn’t he call me back and why doesn’t she like me and I hate you and tears and slamming doors and drivers licenses and parties and to drink or not to drink and formals and exams and jobs and pimples and everything is intense and insane and an onslaught and you love me you hate me you wish I would die you think dad is better you hate dad and you’re going to move out but please oh please will you just tell me why they would say that I didn’t do anything it’s not my fault. But, standing in the kitchen making dinner, you come in and say I just need a hug. As we reach our arms around one another you put your head down on me and I can feel you let go of a sigh that is most likely carrying the weight of the world in it. I whisper to you I love you. Yes, I told you today.

My grown up
There you are. Tall. Beautiful. Pictures of you in your cap and gown are now on the wall. Pictures of you are everywhere around the house. You have a confidence in your walk, but I can still see those moments of doubt in your eyes. You don’t always show me, but sometimes I see. You have grand plans. You’re excited to go out and live your life. I’m excited for you to go, but I’m also sad. Because you won’t need me as much now. But I still need you. When I see you succeed you will never know the way my heart swells with pride. When I see you fail, I break down just a little and I have to fight the urge to fix everything for you. Because now it’s your path to walk, and I am just a spectator at the show, instead of the master of ceremony. We still talk. You still share parts of your world with me. And even if we can’t talk that day, in my head each night, I’m travelling back in time. I’m seeing you in high school, middle school, kindergarten, as a toddler, as a baby. And I’m telling you I love you.


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