December 19, 2012
There are so many things I could say about you…your kindness, friendliness, and confidence. Your adorable nose, or your freckles, or your eyes. Or your hair, and how when it flips a certain way it takes my breath away, and I swear you could be an angel. But what is in my heart tonight is how you are growing up, and how I seemed to turn around for just one second, and there you are, a strong, sweaty, somewhat smelly boy — not my chubby, soft little baby.
I remember when you were little — how I would lie down with you until you fell asleep. I can still see your silhouette in the moonlight…that big round belly under fleece snowman jammies, soft red curls and button nose. I miss those nights. I miss being there with you as you drifted off. I miss your little, round cherubic self. But then, children must grow up.
I guess that is the burden I bear…I cling desperately to those memories of little you. And you, in typical childhood fashion, race as fast as you can to leave them behind. In my mind I scramble to remember things, to remember what your hair felt like, or how you smelled, or how it felt when you snuggled into my neck, or what your tiny voice sounded like. And when I reach that memory, my heart hurts. The beating of my heart hurts. For you have outgrown the memory, but I haven’t. And I suppose it is natural that someday you will outgrow me…but I will never outgrow you.
So many memories of you, Henry. So many beautiful memories.
So many more to come.
Happy birthday baby boy,