Nestled in a packed middle school cafeteria on a sweltering summer afternoon, my young son cozies up in my lap. He wraps his long limbs around my neck and whispers softly, “Love you more, Mom.” With a radiant smile, he melts away any tension I was holding onto.
His energy is endless; he wiggles and squirms, unable to contain himself. Turning to the stage, he pretends to focus on the music playing. I lean in and whisper, “shhh” to him.
He takes my hand, intertwining his small fingers with mine, marveling at the size difference as he rests his head against my chest. The familiar scent of his hair—a mix of shampoo and the essence of a boy who’s just finished running around—fills me with warmth. I close my eyes, cherishing this borrowed moment while I can, knowing that our time together in this way is fleeting.
I’m reminded of moments past when his older brother occupied this same spot in my lap. Now, he towers over me, and I can hardly believe how quickly time has passed. Where did those years go?
He was just here, just a moment ago, sharing that connection with me, and now he’s navigating the complexities of adolescence, carving out his unique identity with distinct passions and interests. Each day, he grows a little more independent, and while I hope I’ve equipped him to face the world, I also hope he knows I’ll always be there as a safe place to land.
The time we are granted with our children is never sufficient. Days can feel endless, but the years seem to slip away in an instant. One moment, that little boy is in your arms, and the next, he’s up on stage, and you’re left wondering how it all unfolded so quickly.
When my younger son eventually finds himself performing on that same stage, my lap will be empty. I’ll be in the audience, cherishing the moment with tears of pride, wishing I could slow down time just a little. There won’t be any small arms wrapping around my neck or tiny fingers tracing the veins on my hand anymore.
I understand that the time between now and then is shorter than it appears, and it will arrive before I know it. Our children, while they may be in our care, are truly their own individuals. I often remind myself that my role is not to collect children but to nurture them until they are ready to spread their wings.
No one prepares new parents for the bittersweet reality that comes with each day a child grows a bit more distant. They become more self-sufficient, needing us just a little less each day. This is the essence of motherhood: witnessing growth while grappling with the heartache of letting go.
So, as I sit with my son on my lap, I imprint this moment in my memory. I tuck it away, knowing that I must savor these instances while they last, inhaling the essence of his youthful spirit. One day, he’ll be grown, and I’ll only have these memories to hold onto. This little boy isn’t truly mine; I simply have the privilege of keeping him for a time, and I intend to cherish every moment.
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In summary, the time we share with our children is precious yet fleeting. As they grow and become more independent, we must embrace each moment, knowing that our role is to prepare them for the world while cherishing the bond we share.