Notions of incomplete. In medias res. Insufficient perhaps. Maybe. Totally immersed in the journey, oh yes. These are the swirly marbles coaxing themselves across my wooden floor. This word.Half. Not all the way, but invested. Life is sweet & scary here.
Today you are half, sweet boy. Exactly 9.5 years worth of you God has gifted this planet. And I am too it seems. It's that beautiful fabric of mother & child we call ours. The thread count is high & thick with teaching one to the other. Lessons about love. About listening. About learning each other more. We rest under it warm. Contently, we wriggle and nestle. Taking time to stretch and settle into our best resting time & again.
Half of you is through with me. Not in ways neglectful or unkind, but grown. For when I sit to seep out these words 9 1/2 years from now, you will be a man. An adult outstanding and loyal and on his way. Your way. Out from under our covers, you'll find your rest. And I will wriggle and nestle into a life snuggled aback watching you. Fly.
Insufficient perhaps. Maybe. For God made me for you; you in me. And only a mother knows that kind of joyous empty. Sweet growing son, I take a precious heed to these moments we call now. Even more than the infant then. The times where you think to ask me about my day and when you want to read together at night. I stick them deep inside my forever and wrap them tightly in the fabric of us.
You are such a heavy & absolute holy part of the who I am. Thank you for giving me half. I look forward to the 9.5 years of equal parts wriggle & nestle. Taking time to stretch and settle into our best resting time & again. Totally immersed in the journey. Of you.Oh, yes.
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