Monday, November 03, 2014

Son and Stars

I don't remember exactly when it happened. The sunrise crept later into the day so slowly, minute by minute until suddenly I'm greeting the day in the dark, sending my son out to the bus stop lit by the moon, the sun still resting, holding back to make its fashionably late entrance.

It's slow progress. Rather like my boy, who suddenly is getting taller and taller and will surely be eye-to-eye with me before the school year is out.

Good morning, moon.
It's a new world for us, as he grows; it's been a challenge some days. He's still my little boy in so many ways, but he can't be that forever. With all my helicopter ways, I don't want that, I want him to grow, spread his wings, fly on his own without me hovering over.

He's up early in the morning now, to get ready and get out the door before his younger sister even thinks of waking up to get ready for school. It's stolen time, after Dad goes to work and before sister wakes up. It's our time. It's the time when he gets to be a little boy and I get to be his Mommy. It's a tough transition for him, too, I can see. He's caught between, and some days it feels better to not have to choose.

But I nudge him. I open the door and push him out like a good Mom does. And he's flying, little by little, on his own.

We were discussing Daylight Savings Time, changing the clocks around the house and I told him it wouldn't be dark in the morning when he went to the bus, something I thought would make him happy; he looked a little sad and said, "But I like looking for Orion in the morning."

On those dark mornings, we would go out to the driveway together; together we would make jokes (the language of tween boys) and we would look for stars.
"There's Orion; I see his belt."

"Where's the dipper? Is that the big one or the little?"

"Look, the moon is almost full."

"Is that the north star? A planet? Maybe it's Mars."
I will miss this.

But I know, the sun won't let me down. Once again, our bright mornings will begin later and the moon will encroach, pushing the sun back so my son can find his stars.

1 comment:

  1. Loved this! I'm trying to do the same with my 12 year old…it goes too fast.