The vastness of our early years is humbling. Our adult selves trail behind, clinging to our shadows, creeping up our silhouettes as we grow. I observe my child floating through these tender years, ever oblivious to its heavy-handed pace, to the ephemeral nature of his innocence.
My job is to push him forward into the great wide landscape while doing my honest best to shield him from my foibles, to cushion his falls, to devour his pain, elevate the mundaneness. Childhood, from a parent’s perspective, is muddled mess of emotions.
The past six years have stretched long and thin and bits and pieces of his carefree innocence are chipping away from his emotional skeleton. I vacillate between joy in seeing him mature and melancholy in watching him eschew his baby fat.
Because of my son I am ball of contradiction- raw and unguarded, untamed at times, sometimes stoic, always a reveler of life, even in my worst moments. Motherhood is fierce, a beautiful balance, my son’s roots at the center of my heart.
*Lego and Lightsaber cupcakes for my son’s Star Wars themed Lego building party