On Loving In The Motherland

Sometimes when I walk by his room, I can still smell it.
It's not as potent, not as rich. And, it's changing.

It's losing its sweetness, and morphing into something more intense.

I can still smell it though. Soft and pure. Intoxicatingly unique to him.
And sometimes I stand alone in his empty room and just let it soak in.
Breathing becomes a real treat as his smell floods my heart. Memories upon memories dance in my mind. I sit on his bed, and touch his pillow. It's all here.

But it's changing.

My baby's smell is becoming a boy's scent.

And when things change, I reflect.

He's just six. But his body is growing lean and long. His muscles are showing in his calves and stomach. His face has all but lost it's delicious chubbiness.
And his character is so strong. He is beginning to know himself. His likes, dislikes. His frustrations  and his loves.

And luckily for me, I'm still his love. I'm still his number one. For this moment, I still put all the stars in the sky. In his sky.

But his seasons are changing. And I know it won't happen all at once, but slowly he will pull back. I will have to unweave the heart strings bit by bit to let him move and grow.

It seems strikingly sad to me at first. And I have to take a step back, as I'm sure most mothers do.
And though it aches inside to let go a tiny bit, it's beautiful. And I'm so grateful.

I am watching my child GROW. I get to witness these grand slams and small victories. I get to protect these mini heartbreaks. I am still welcome. I am still desired by his little heart.

So I will allow him room. To move. In and out. And my mother's heart hopes he always finds a place inside to visit.

Happy Mother's Day weekend.