There was one gift I craved all my adult life. That gift was the ability to give of myself without reservation and to feel, really feel, the complete generous love of a child.
I put it off for one reason or another for many years, not ready yet, I now believe, to claim the gift in any way that would make it a scared gift. There were opportunities, but I was too timid to reach out and take what I so wanted.
When I finally, finally, reached out and received Benjamin into my life I thought that was it, this was the gift, now I had it, this little blob of person-to-be, and the rest was living in the arrival.
I had no idea what he had in store for me. The person he is becoming changes all the time, keeps me guessing and doubting, hoping and rejoicing, fearing sometimes too, feeling both up to the task and woefully inadequate. He keeps me from any feeling at all that we have arrived, but keeps me feeling instead that we are still walking, looking, reaching for each other.
I have to keep reminding myself that being is the key. Listening to his endless questions about the road we are on and trying to answer them truthfully in ways he will understand leaves room for little else other than being.
Coming home from a rendezvous with friends today we left the highway because the highway makes him anxious. It is a gorgeous day, why not take a few extra minutes to take the country road home? We found two farm stands to buy tomatoes, honey crisp apples, butternut squash, gummy bears. Fresh corn and cider too.
When we got home he wanted a cheese sandwich. Why not? Is there really anything better than a glass of cider with a toasted cheese sandwich on a glorious October day?
We both needed a nap. As we crawled under the covers, he took my hand. “You’re a great mom,” he said.
“And you are a wonderful son,” I answered.
I am. He is. We are. Every single moment of every day we have together on this spinning orb. The hardest and easiest thing in the world.