to my son
September 30, 2014 § 6 Comments
When you were first born the moments between your birth and our introductions were an impossibility of hurried anticipation. You were so long a part of me that I felt unfamiliar alone, the cradle of my arms vast and hollow in your absence. When at last I could marvel over the perfection of your familiarity I squandered endless moments memorizing the lines of your emotions, unguarded in your innocence.
I still look to the shape of your posture and the melody of your gait for the truth of your experiences. I do this with your sister, too, but I learned this language with you. Even now, as you preserve thoughts and dreams for yourself, I read the untold worry and barely contained enthusiasm in a language you do not know you speak.
There is an often stubborn angle to your shoulders, an amusing indignation reminiscent of your toddler self, assured and undeterred in your persistence. You wear love with the unguarded bright eyes of newborn devotion that boasts loudly and unapologetically of loyalty. Humor and harm are more fleeting sentiments, sketched in dimples and furrowed brows that punctuate the truth of your tenderness.
I think of our first day on so many end of school days, waiting for a delayed hello as I wonder at the story behind the swing of your limbs and marvel, still, at the miracle of love that we cannot name and yet read so fluently without language.
Love you.
Mom
scribblechic 
This is lovely.
Thank you!
I love your posts to your son and daughter. I believe the greatest most unconditional love there is that of a parent;s love for a child. Beautiful as always.
Thank you. These letters were such a tender unraveling, an unexpected intimacy in this uncertain space of discovery.
Wonderful
Thank you!