A Letter to My Son

Son,

Tonight you are my little boy (sorry, my “medium” boy.  You’ve taken offense to the term “little” after you turned five.)  And tomorrow you’re an official big kid, starting kindergarten.

How did this happen?  I swear it was just yesterday that you were born. Your tiny fist wrapped around the tip of my finger.  I look at your hands now: how big they’ve grown in just five years!  You were so quiet then.  What the hell happened?  It’s like some switch in your brain clicked on this summer and now you can’t stop talking!  “One question…” you say, and proceed with a litany of things.

You’re smart, funny, and (in the words of your grandma) “a real son-of-a-gun!” and keep us laughing constantly.  You’re sleeping soundly now, lids closed over those brilliantly mischievous blue eyes; I tussle your coppery red hair and see shadows on the wall of where your crib used to be, memories in my mind of you toddling around without a care.

I envision you growing up before me.  Getting into trouble at school for pretending to be Spiderman and climbing some fence with your friends.  I watch you learn to play sports and grow strong and taller than me.  And soon (far too son for me!) you’ll be dating some girl.  Here’s a tip:  When she asks you, “Do I look fat?” it is a trick question.  The correct answer is “You’re beautiful.”  Every time.  Trust me on this.

You will break some hearts and some girl will break yours.  You may forgive her, and even take her back.  Your father will forgive her too and be nice to her.  But I won’t.  Because once she hurts you she’s dead to me.  That’s how it is with mothers and sons.

There will be football games and final exams.  A million little moments will slip between us and then I’ll blink again and you’ll be all grown up.  The ABC’s on your walls will be replaced with pictures of friends; toys exchanged for trophies.  My little medium boy a man.

Be a good man.  One who can balance strength with kindness, laughter with compassion and action with wisdom.  Make your mark, and realize that success is more than just having money.  Marry a strong woman (one who reminds you to send flowers on Mother’s Day) and start a family of your own.  If you’re anything like your father (and you are) you’ll be a great dad.  And you’ll wonder why your son climbs on top of tables, giving you a heart attack, and I will just laugh and say, “He’s just like you were!”

Some days, son, life will be hard, very hard.  And you will feel alone.  But you won’t be, because your father and I will always live in your heart.  And even when your grown, and you’re 100 and I’m 135, I will always love you.  And you will always be my baby boy.

Look out world!  Here comes my son.

 

 

*****

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