Thursday, October 28, 2010


I wrote this a couple of weeks ago but didn't get to post this until just this morning,
and re-reading it, I re-lived it,
and it turned out just as I hoped it would:

We picked up his tux last night and he tried it on, and he is so dashing,
so very dashing.
He looks so good in black.

At 4:30 he will stand with the court and have pictures taken,
at 5:30 he will ride in a convertible down Grand River to the school.

We will tailgate and buy cheesy potatoes and carmel apples from the cheerleaders and the FFA down by the football field,
and they will judge the floats,
and our lousy football team will beat whatever lousy team they've matched us up with on this day, because you always win at Homecoming.
And the stands will be packed with old people and kids who graduated last year,
and we will shiver and drink out of our thermoses and sing, "Hail to Webberville!" and stand up when the band plays it, clapping to the beat and yelling, "Hey!" at the end,
all in unison with our fists to the sky.

And afterwards, the cars will circle the track and the court will be introduced,
ending with the four senior couples, and they will slowly and tediously read the bios for each one over the loudspeaker, as the boys escort the shivering girls to their places.

And the whole time I will not quite be able to take it all in,
I will be kept from seeing the big picture,
because for me, all I will see is him.
All night long, I will know where he is, over by concessions, down by the gate,
up at the top of the stands, I will just know it by my sixth sense.
And I will look at the other mothers, so relaxed, as if this happens every day, and I will think to myself, "Can't you see that my son is the best of them all? Can't you see how handsome he is, how beautiful, how he outshines every other one?"

I can remember like it was yesterday, holding him in the back of the church,
with his head on my shoulder,
glad that he fussed so I could stand back there,
so I could have an excuse to focus just on him,
feeling my place as his mother so keenly,
and enjoying it so completely.

I can remember the rush of feeling in my chest when I kissed his little lips,
like falling in love,
and how he was so utterly and completely mine when he could fit in my arms.

And now I am bawling here all by myself.

But I want to feel it,
I want to think about it,
because this feeling of seeing him bloom,
beginning to let him go,
is just as powerful a joy, although painful,
as when I was his possessor.

Does that make sense?

My heart is just so full I can't stand it.

It was his first dance, Homecoming Dance of his senior year, and it was Middle Child's first dance too, as a freshman, and she fit right in to the house full of senior kids getting ready around her.

So many endings and beginnings.



Brian Miller said...

smiles. proud mom....nice looking son...the letting go...dont even want to think about yet...

Joann said...

This is the third time now for me to read this. And yes, I cried a third time. I can so relate to your words, "painful joy."

Loving you.

Heidi Lee said...

Lump in throat.

It all happened too fast.

I remember coming to visit you in Florida, and you handing him immediately to me the minute I stepped off the plane.

Such the proud mommy, beaming, practically throwing him into my arms like you were saying, "Here he is, he is perfect and wonderful and YOU get to hold him all the way to the car!" And I was so excited to do so. He was this teddy bear of a little baby that would make my heart melt when he would smile with those big, beautiful cheeks and no teeth.

I wish I could go back.

Lisa Y. said...

You did it! Heather, you raised up that bundle of snuggles into a young man. As a proud mother of a soon to be man, I feel ya, babe, I feel ya!!