It wasn't just the words. It was how he said them

There is so much to write about. From the first day of school to both high school and grammar school reunions to a renewed commitment to running, there are many stories jotted hastily on the post-it note stuck next to my laptop. All of that will have to wait patiently for this one.

I was on my way out to dinner with friends on Friday, a rare weekend night when Lil E is at home with me that I left him with a babysitter. He was playing the Star Wars game with the incessant beeping or watching "iCarly" with the incessant teen squealing while I put on heels and lipstick and dug my wallet from a purse full of Legos and broken crayons and taffy so I could be liberated with a clutch carrying very little with me for the night.

Our house was full of the sounds of us, clicking and laughing and singing along to something or other. I wanted a few minutes with him to talk and cuddle before the sitter came. And as I walked the length of the hall and into the living room, where he sat comfortably on the couch, Lil E suddenly peered over the armrest at me.

"MOMMY!" He was quiet but full of expression. "You are so beautiful."

He said it plainly. Even earnestly.

I instinctively cocked my head, curious.

"What makes you say that, love?" I was smiling and there was something so serious about that sentiment that it startled me.

"I just think you look so beautiful tonight. Annnnd I really like your outfit."

You know that flood of glowiness and sunshine and pride and ooeyness and rainbows and ponies with pink hair and diamond tiaras that fills you up the first time you feel the weight of your your child's tiny body on your chest, those moments he reaches his chubbers little arms up just for you to pick him up, hearing the cooed "ma ma ma ma ma" come from the crib in the other room in the early morning hours? That's exactly how that felt.

It's not his job to pay me compliments on my clothes or anything else. And believe me, I have thousands of before-picture moments in the house with my child.

What got me was the generosity and spontaneity of his spirit, that he offered that up because it struck him. Life and heartache and experience and anger make it harder and harder to offer up what we really see, make it easier to protect our feelings and vulnerabilities just in case. But I hope he holds on to this precious gift, to say I see you there.

One day too soon I will be in his way. He will have a life I don't know everything about and do things far beyond my control. His breath will be taken by, he will be ravished by, and his large and beating heart will be broken by real beauties.

I just wish for him, for this world, for the people who walk down other corridors toward him many years into the future, that he keeps putting big words like beautiful out there.

Comments

[Lylah]

That was beautiful! Thank you for sharing it...