Don’t you think that by the time my son is almost ten months old, I would have realized that by now? But the truth is that I still have surreal moments in which I stop whatever I’m doing, awestruck by his presence.
One year ago, he was alive only as part of me. A year before that, he was non-existent. It blows me away that within such a short time the cells have grown and the synapses connected, the bones formed, the organs functioning, the teeth and the hair beginning to come in. Somehow, all of us who were alive before him had been able to live without his smile, without his laugh, without his hugs or wet kisses. We were missing out though.
River and I have recently gotten to a point that seems highly interactive to me. He can point to things he’s interested in, he reacts to things I do, we can enjoy things together. This weekend, sitting side-by-side with him at a bench at the bagel shop, I felt like I was having breakfast with my buddy.
My buddy, my friend, a little person. A person? Wow.
Subscribe to this blog's posts
Posts
All Comments
Showing posts with label growing up. Show all posts
Showing posts with label growing up. Show all posts
Monday, October 6, 2008
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Fleeting Time
I know it’s way too early, but I find myself already feeling afraid of River’s growing up. I know it will happen, I know it’s inevitable, I know it’s best for him, for my descendents, for society, perhaps for me.
I think how he’ll have no memory of this time. Some of the most meaningful and special months of my life, during which we have a close and loving intimacy, will disappear into his oblivion.
I hear with some frequency women looking at River and telling me to enjoy the time.
“My baby is 6 foot 1,” one said.
“And mine 6’3,” her friend said.
“My baby is 19,” a real estate agent told me last weekend. “It happens in the blink of an eye.”
I know they are right and I do want to treasure this time. But treasure as I might, I can’t hold it still. I can’t enjoy it any longer than the time itself.
Yesterday I watched college students, probably on the men’s track team, running down the street. They wore shorts and ran bare-chested. Looking at their rippling muscles, their long and lean strengths, I thought back to the women who bore them, who nursed them, who fed them twenty or so years ago.
There is a group of women out there who will always see these strong young men as their babies. They will remember the sight of the boys’ naked little butts on the changing table. They’ll recall the feeling of small arms around their neck and slobbery kisses. When they offer their sons hugs or refer to them as their babies, their son’s probably say, “Oh mom,” and then look for escape.
Looking at them, I saw my future and River’s future. I’ll be happy for him to be strong and healthy and athletic. I want him to grow up into a confident, independent person. But I also want to hold this time near. And I mourn the fact that we’ll never be able to recall it together.
I think how he’ll have no memory of this time. Some of the most meaningful and special months of my life, during which we have a close and loving intimacy, will disappear into his oblivion.
I hear with some frequency women looking at River and telling me to enjoy the time.
“My baby is 6 foot 1,” one said.
“And mine 6’3,” her friend said.
“My baby is 19,” a real estate agent told me last weekend. “It happens in the blink of an eye.”
I know they are right and I do want to treasure this time. But treasure as I might, I can’t hold it still. I can’t enjoy it any longer than the time itself.
Yesterday I watched college students, probably on the men’s track team, running down the street. They wore shorts and ran bare-chested. Looking at their rippling muscles, their long and lean strengths, I thought back to the women who bore them, who nursed them, who fed them twenty or so years ago.
There is a group of women out there who will always see these strong young men as their babies. They will remember the sight of the boys’ naked little butts on the changing table. They’ll recall the feeling of small arms around their neck and slobbery kisses. When they offer their sons hugs or refer to them as their babies, their son’s probably say, “Oh mom,” and then look for escape.
Looking at them, I saw my future and River’s future. I’ll be happy for him to be strong and healthy and athletic. I want him to grow up into a confident, independent person. But I also want to hold this time near. And I mourn the fact that we’ll never be able to recall it together.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)