Time Passes...

My youngest son turns thirteen today. I cannot believe it. Of my three, he is the one I most wanted to stay young. He was the snuggliest of babies, and I was his favourite. I "get" him, and see so many of my own family's traits in him. Always shy and quiet, he was the kind of child you would want to win over...earn his trust and affection. I remember the night he was born as though it just happened. Snowstorm raging outside, he spent his first night in my arms. A crusty, old nurse (she really was) barged into our quiet room and barked at me that she was taking him back to the nursey as I would "drop him" in my slumber. A protective and defiant urge swelled in me and I hissed back at her, "I would never drop him...he's my baby!" No way was she having him - to lay alone under the bright lights of the nursery while she sat knitting and listening to the harsh shrill of the radio.

The thought still has the power to make me mad.

Calling home one day, it occurred to me that he no longer has that sweet, raspy little boy's voice when he answers the phone, and it makes me sad. I know I am about to enter another journey with him - one full of different gifts and trials - but I can't help my sadness over the loss of that little boy. In my heart of hearts he is still little. I know our bond remains; but I also know I am on the other side of the slope when it comes to claiming him as all mine. While he no longer has favourites, he still gives hugs freely. I am so grateful for every birthday that rolls around, and will continue working to fulfill the promises I made to him on that very first night...

Happy Birthday Callum!

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