Suppose I told you that I sat across from Caeden’s teacher earlier this week, without uttering more than two words, kleenex in hand, as I was told Cade’s personality was amazing. That his teacher found herself wondering about him as she got ready for work in the morning because they had a connection – replaying conversations they had shared. That he was something special.
Huge fat tears falling out of my eyes as she told me he is catching up from the “Hell Year” he had last year (and this year, too …) and he was going to be just fine.
Suppose I told you that yesterday when I dropped him off at school, he leaped from the car with his backpack in hand and slammed the door shut. He started to run off, but hesitated, turned around and caught my eye. He walked back over to the vehicle, opened the door and said, “I really love you, Mom.”
Claire, sitting in the backseat, chimed in and said, “We really, really love YOU, Cade!”
And suppose I told you, that if I do nothing else right in the world but create a family that operates like this, that I consider myself a success.
Suppose I told you this one believes Hershey Kisses belong in their own food group. Preferably coinciding with breakfast.
That she gives the best kisses and hugs.
That she is stubborn and independent and I hear she is like me through and through. Looks like me. Acts like me. Loves BIG like me.
And suppose I told you that it makes me very proud.
Even though she makes me sweat sometimes.
And these are the two faces that hold me accountable.
No one else.
And that simple truth keeps me free of all the other noise.
It’s a path I define. I walk. I figure out.
And I am okay with that.
The other day I called it healing.
Today I call it growing up.