You were who you were from the beginning
Tickling me in the womb,
Reluctant about change when it was time to be born.
But there you were. Pink and whole and glorious and terrifying.
Now I think of you in blues and browns
And gray, your favorite color
(which I hope does not mean you’re depressed, merely independent)
Ten is turning out to be a delightful age, and I thank you for
those conversations we have as you learn to hold your own with your rather verbal parents;
for those questions you ask, like do I remember the places I was when really sad things happened like 9/11 and Sandy Hook
Watching you navigate the undulating landscape of approaching tweendom
(God help us all, literally)
And seriously, your vocabulary. When did you learn all those words?
Your kindness to younger children
Your age-appropriate demand for fairness
Your unselfconscious beauty
Your sweetness and your sass
Your bad moods and the eye rolls you seem to have perfected
Your yearning that all your family lived nearby
Your wish that we could go away for Christmas
And that your parents had weekends off like normal parents
We’re doing all we can to help you dig those roots and sprout those wings
And as it turns out, all we really need to do is stand out of the way.
Go! Stay! Fly! Dig deep!
Words are so inadequate for love.