My son had a birthday this past weekend.
As I sat across from him at the breakfast table, I couldn’t believe that this child of mine was already twenty.
I sat mesmerized as I looked at his handsome face.
Dark, curly hair, beautiful chocolate brown eyes and eyelashes so long, they make women cry.
Where had the time gone?
It seemed like only yesterday we were trading Pokemon cards and now, a leisurely conversation was composed of discussing the theories of Freud and Carl Jung.
As he looked up from his plate, I heard him say, “What’s wrong, Mom?” and I replied, “Oh nothing, just admiring how handsome you are.”
Little did he know that in the time he had been sitting eating his pancakes, a hundred slides had flashed before my eyes.
His first day of kindergarten, the first time he made a basket, the day he learned to ride a bike, the day he learned to write his name, the time he won first prize in the science fair, the day he scored his first touchdown, his first solo flight, the day he graduated, the art contest where his sculpture won third prize.
Like frames in a film, episodes of his life flashed before my eyes.
My heart swelled with pride as I remembered the day he walked into the living room and announced, “I’m a big boy, Mommy. Tonight, I sleep in my bed.” He was two.
Or the night he came into my room and asked, “Mommy, do you want me to check if there are monsters in your closet?” He was four.
Or the time he said, “Mommy, when I grow up I want to be a doctor.” He was six.
The time he announced, “Mom, I changed my mind. I want to be a ninja.” He was eight.
And who could forget the time I picked him up from school and he shouted, “You’re late and the ugly girl in my class has been chasing me so she can kiss me!” He was ten.
I thought of the day he said, “I don’t care if I’m short. I want to try out for the basketball team.” He was 12.
Yes, time has surely flown.
And now this young man was twenty.
Soon he would graduate from the university, find a job, and move out.
The thought of him leaving broke my heart.
I was not ready to deal with the empty nest syndrome.
I was not ready to admit that my services as a mom would no longer be required.
I wasn’t ready for him to have grown up so fast.
And yet he had.
I smiled as I said, “Are you my best boy?”
My smile grew wider as I heard him say, “Mom, I’m your only boy.”
Yes, he had turned twenty, but in my heart, he would always be my baby boy.
Today I’m linking up with Heidi’s Black and White Wednesday.