The boy turned five today and my heart is full.
I realized that for the past five years I've known his mood every single day, and watched him grow and change. First the physical connection of carrying him, giving birth to him and feeding him, then the gradual independence of his first steps. Thousands of times I've corrected him, read to him,laughed with him, kissed him. I know the changes will be rapid in this continual process of letting go in little ways. But for now I am so thankful that these five years have been so intertwined, and that I am able to spend my days at home loving him. I am the recipient of his unending questions, and of his generous affection. His excitement about things brings a smile everyday. I just turned around from where I am typing to see Juden creeping through the living room dressed up like a cross between a pirate and a crazy woodsman with orange sun-glasses announcing in a gruff and commanding tone, "Quiet Ella, we're going to fight the bears in the forest of Africa."
I feel so blessed to be the chest he falls on, in a worn-out heap at the end of his days, pink faced and smelling like grass and sunshine.
Happy birthday baby.
