Saturday, January 16, 2010

Before We Can Shoulder No More

My husband, a sensitive and artistic guy with a beautiful heart, keeps his emotions pretty well in check. In the decade we've known each other, he has cried in front of me maybe twice, if that.

And this is not going to be the story of him crying, either.

But the look in his eyes, which he held open so high that his scalp moved? I held my breath. In the fraction of a second before he spoke, I thought of 20 possible awful things he might say to me.

"HONEY," he whispered.

"He's so big now that soon I won't be able to carry him on my shoulders anymore..." he paused, my pulse returned to normal. He raked his hand through his hair. "I just never thought about that before. He's my little boy. I should always be able to grab him and toss him up on my shoulders and head off on an adventure. You know? It won't be much longer and I won't be able to get him up there. He's so big now."

I confess that I am GUILTY of often forgetting to live in the now, and that I waste time wishing for a fast forward button, searching for the someday when my kids are able to do this or that thing, don't need so much such and such, can be trusted with x or y. I catch myself, at least, and try to be more present. J doesn't do that as much as I do. If anything, he looks back wistfully. "Remember when she used to say cubuz instead of because? Remember how when he was a baby his little arms barely reached over his head??" I love this, because in those days, which J remembers so fondly, I was probably wishing for...well, the stuff that they can do right now, that I fail to appreciate. When she said cubuz, I was yearning to be rid of diapers. When his arms barely reached above his head, I fantasized about the sleep that melatonin now provides with some regularity. But most of the time, J just appreciates what we HAVE. He gently swipes the chip off my shoulder, saying, "Listen to them playing together. They are doing better, can you hear it?" He points, "Look at what they built out of Legos. Isn't that cool?"

One of the countless things I cherish about J is the way he keeps me present.


pixiemama said...

J is a wonderful father.


Kate said...

failing to appreciate the present is far too easy. i love your observations. clearly, with so many of your posts, dear friend, you're in the here and now!

Niksmom said...

This is glorious, my friend. J's awesomeness, your recognition and appreciation of it...all of it.

J's Mom said...

Your beautiful description of J not only captured a special part of him, but also uncannily described his wonderful father. I see that same quality in Rooster and I know he too will someday be a man to be treasured.