Blue.

Levi, June 2011

BLUE.

The new jeans were bought.  

Some new shirts, too--but nothing fancy...he's not fussy.  

A sturdy backpack was found in the back of the closet.  

It was thrown in the wash, and came out just fine.  

It will do, will hold the tonnage of books sent home the first week.

Last year's tennies still fit--amazingly, and were washed and set out in the sun to dry, blasted by the heat into a blazing white once again.

We all went to bed early.  

Why do I have as many butterflies as he must?

Silent prayers are said for a good sophomore year.

Alarm goes off like a blast at 6:30.

That same empty ripple of feeling I have every year when I first drop him off at school came again, settling like a skipped rock in my stomach.  

I realize--again, that I will miss him.  He's my last one at home. 
This makes me more than a little melancholy.

I know that I will not pick up the same boy I'm dropping off,

when I drive into the school on that last day next June.  

He will be almost a man.

I realize that at the end of the year, I will look backward and say "Where did this year go?"  I know it.

  Time is flying right by me and I can't put my hand out to stop it.  

 I can only treasure this time I have now, with this boy I see with my memory's eyes as a toddler who once was giggling, learning to walk, then blinking only to see him flying straight at me with a dandelion held out to me in his chubby little hand;  "This is for you, mommy!".

I hear in my memory the echo of those nights spent in the creaking rocking chair ...holding a soft head close under my chin.

Mamas...enjoy all these seemingly endless days full of long minutes of those precious tiny people who need you, and whose beautiful eyes look up to you every day.  

Let those dishes wait.  

Vacuuming isn't so important, really. 

Take care of their needs, 

But play on the floor with them...

Let them teach you how to slow down as time flies.