Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Everytime he comes home...

He cleans his room.
Nice, right? Good boy, right?

Everytime he cleans his room he throws things out.
He throws out things HE no longer needs.
Things he is no longer interested in.
Things that, as an adult are of no use to him.
Things that have memories...

for me.

Memories of a baby asleep in my arms.
Memories of a child who took his teddy bear everywhere.
Memories of a boy who collected bears and yo-yos.
memories of a teen who loved to skateboard and Bruce Lee.
Memories of a young man...
Memories of a young man who no longer is that baby...
that child...
that boy..
that teen...
The young man is grown man now,


and I am so proud.

but, the truth is...

that man will forever remain...
the baby in my arms,
the child with the bear,
the boy practicing 'around the world' and 'rock the baby',
the teen who strove for the ultimate ollie and carried wax around with him.

and the man,
who works so late,
prays so early,
who loves Hashem,
and studies His Torah,
who never gives up,
and looks for the best,
the son of my womb,
and the pride of my heart.


Shalom Bayit said...

Well said dear sister
My heart is happy and broken at the same time for you.

Jack said...

Oh wow... that's my mommy...

I... I... :::burst into sobs:::

it's a sick world of blogging that we communicate like this. But this is for you all to see.


mogu said...

Great mom and excellent writer : ) I see your feelings.