thirteen
April 15, 2013 § 2 Comments
I am not one to dwell on numbers. Symbols of time feel inconsequential, tallies and record keeping unweighted against immeasurable, everyday moments. Until today. Tomorrow my son will turn thirteen and I am at a loss for words, my emotions categorically scattered and my thoughts anchored to a simple, unavoidable awareness.
My heart keeps tripping over old memories and small victories, twisting and twirling around years that seem to have passed too quickly to have been properly measured. And yet there is no miscalculation.
As he sits somewhere behind a desk, distracted by the routine activities of his school day, these are the thoughts that crest on waves of memories as I speak, silently, to the little boy who is ever-present in my day. To my son,
I love that your childhood stuffed rabbit has never been shuffled into storage and that we as a family collectively reference him with love.
I admire your ability to forgive others for unkindness while holding yourself accountable for demonstrating kindness.
I respect your efforts to assimilate into others’ expectations without sacrificing your sense of self.
I love that you are in no hurry to be grown, while fiercely passionate about being treated as an equal to adults.
I admire your ability to memorize information accidentally and your efforts to master that which you do not know naturally, with intent.
I wouldn’t change the difficult pieces of your story to script a simpler experience.
I am a more compassionate individual for your company; gentler for your strength, stronger for your vulnerability.
I wish others understood what they cannot see, the beautiful contradictions that spell both struggle and success.
I love that even as your shadow falls near my own, we don’t have to see eye to eye to share one perspective.
I wish I could create a tidy list of thirteen thoughts from the countless memories that accompany this moment to honor each year you have inspired me. Instead words fail, where love cannot. This day sweeter for all the days before and a new tomorrow.
scribblechic 
Love the image of the stuffed rabbit. My son’s stuffed monkey is loved by all of us and is not put away somewhere. He still gets used, even as my son becomes a man.
Talisman of childhood innocence, our son’s stuffed companion’s name is synonymous with love. I’m glad I’m not alone.