I have been writing to you in my mind for about a month now. I go over and over the words each and every day.
More than once I have gone to bed after longingly watching you sleep and sighed that I miss you. How does one miss someone she spends each and every day with?
It is 2:00 pm right now and you are sound asleep. Upside down in your bed. One leg over the bedrail.
That’s my boy.
Your breathing is steady. Your bed full of books and cars and everything Lightning McQueen. It’s a wonder you stay comfortable.
Your sister is sleeping soundly in the room next door and even if she wasn’t, you have learned to tune her out.
Perhaps a skill that will help you for years to come?
Sometimes I go back in time and look at pictures. Though I hardly have the time, the kitchen needs cleaning, the checkbook needs balancing and my husband would like a conversation, I look back. And I see my smiley faced baby who has turned into a boy.
Your face has aged. Your head has grown.
Your hands are not those of a little one anymore. They are big, they are strong. I noticed this as soon as you came to see me and E in the hospital.
The words you say, the things you do.
You are not my babe, but my boy.
Everyone wants to know how you’re adjusting to your new baby sister. I don’t usually know what to say.
You know how to love. I tell you that I love you when I tuck you in and you tell me that you love me more.