I changed his diaper
and the next thing I knew he was changing his address.
The story isn’t quite
that strange, but the morning I watched my oldest man-child drive off to pursue
college and work in another state, THAT is how I felt.
Where did the time go?
I rocked and bounced
this man-child through 18 months of colic and believe it or not, I never wanted
out.
{He was my baby}
And the day the
chubby little one smeared red lipstick all over the bathroom counters and
carpets, I did not long for a Mother’s Day Out program to rescue me. I adored
him.
{He was my toddler}
Then as a young boy
we labored over phonograms and math drills at the kitchen table, while the
school bus whizzed by and we never looked up.
{He was my full time
student}
{{Growing in his sleep}}
When he was a teen,
our home became a revolving door for his friends. The sounds of laughter and
the constant feeding of the herd hid the metamorphosis occurring under my nose.
{{The boy was
becoming a man}}
Then one day our
family spent the afternoon in a park taking pictures. Limping back to the car
in my high heels, my man-child scooped me up from behind and said,
“It’s my turn mom. I’ll carry you.”
And I realized my
man-child was more
man
than child.
And I cried myself to
sleep that night because one day I changed his diaper
and the next day he changed his address.
and the next day he changed his address.
