My boy turns 16 today and as i fly away inside my head to a place that sits on the border of reality a quiet storm rises in my chest. I pause. I inhale. I feel a slight twinge of pain. He is growing up, growing up fast. It’s not been easy, i was barely twenty when i embraced him in my shaky arms, happy, terrified. My quiet, stoic heart used to roar and rage and quake. Tears would fall silently down my cheeks at random times, his first smile, the first step, the first word, his first sentence. Nowadays i find myself holding his hand and squeezing it too tightly. I find myself saying the words “I love you” too often. The joy of watching him growing up and the fear of him going out to seek a life of his own keeps punching my heart in magnifying multitudes. And i want to feel it all.
It evolves and morphs into new shapes with each moment that passes.. He is taller than his father, his voice has gained a new baritone, the soft sweaty hands i once smelt and kissed a zillion times now holds me firm during my weakest hours. So as I inhale, i own that my soft, sensitive mommy-heart already witnesses my life going by too rapidly. I admit that my pointy, weighted breaths are attached to air that I don’t fully want to take in. And I promise myself to never be afraid to feel this…to embrace this growth and to taste the salt that comes with bittersweet tears. And I declare within my tender breast, I want to feel it all.