milestone has mom reflecting

I loved this letter.  I added the photo. My students are finishing their finals this week. My son graduated from high school years ago, and college more recently. But you see, the letter below captured how i have felt as my son turned from seedling to sunflower seemingly overnight. I am sure that you feel/have felt the same way as someone you care about has grown up so very quickly.

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http://www.dispatch.com/content/stories/life_and_entertainment/2013/05/20/milestone-has-mom-reflecting-on-son.html

Monday May 20, 2013 8:41 AM

Dear son:

Here you are. All grown up, strapping and smiling in your cap and gown. Posing for pictures with the friends who still laugh at your booger jokes, swapping stories with teachers, avoiding the people you don’t want to say goodbye to — because you know you might choke up.

And that wouldn’t be cool.

When I look at you, though, I don’t see a man. I see a boy.

A kid crouched in the grass, tears on your cheeks, as you tell the crumpled-up ant cupped in your tiny hand that he will be OK. That you’ll put him in the yard and his mommy will come and find him and take him home and fix him.

I still hear you whispering by the side of my bed at dawn on Saturday mornings: Mom. Mom. Mom. You awake? Mom. Then you slip under the covers, all warm.

I don’t see your friends all grown up today, either.

No, I see all of you sprawled on your bellies in our driveway, cackling like mad scientists as you discover the power of a magnifying glass on a blistering July day. All those poor sacrificed Army men. Dots of melted camouflage goop probably remain in the crannies of our sidewalk.

As I watch you today, I wish for a superpower. I want the ability to turn back the clock, to reset the time. But that wouldn’t be fair, would it? Wishing you young again.

To go back just so I could hold you in my arms and rock you to sleep after the tree-branch shadows in the windows awakened you; to dry your tears after the bubble stuff made the path too slippery for running; to cuddle you while Thomas the Tank Engine played on television.

That would be selfish. That would suggest that all your hard work was for nothing.

That all the sweat and blood left on the football field didn’t matter.

That the late-night algebra sessions didn’t help.

That the calluses from guitar practice were only imaginary.

That the standing up for what was right was wrong.

It hasn’t always been easy, has it? This thing called life.

People you thought were your friends were not.

Some people you loved, you discovered, loved themselves more.

You’ve turned left a time or two when perhaps you should have turned right.

Yet you always knew that no road is a dead end as long as you have reverse. That a working moral compass can guide you out of every darkened alley and that a reasonable mind trumps a muddled map every time.

So, no, I won’t wish this all away.

Instead, as you step off that stage — your hard-earned high-school diploma in hand — I wish only this:

That you embrace those who aren’t just like you.

That you climb mountains — with care.

That you watch a sunrise every chance you get.

That you love yourself but that you love God more.

That you ask for help when you need it and give it when called upon.

That you visit places you’ve only read about.

That you make a difference.

That you laugh every day.

That you are kind to others.

And, most important, no matter where you go, whatever you do, no matter what you achieve or how difficult the accomplishment becomes, that you never lose your way home.

Love, Mom

Dispatch Reporter Holly Zachariah will see her son, Justin Shepherd, graduate on Saturday from Marysville High School.

hzachariah@dispatch.com

About Kate Kresse

I love to write, I love to talk, I love to uplift people when I can. I am a woman in love with life. I am a wife, mom, tutor, writer, and I am a perennial optimist. (OK not every single minute but you get the point! :-)
This entry was posted in faith/courage/miracles/hope, Family Life and Issues and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to milestone has mom reflecting

  1. That is a lovely letter, and yes, those of us fortunate to see our children successfully navigate high school and bloom into young adulthood feel the pride for a long, long time. I hope your students all do well as they finish their year! Blessings!

  2. auntyuta says:

    Blessings, Kate. 🙂

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