The First of the Lasts

I saw my son turn into a little man overnight. Snapping a photo yesterday of his last day of grade two it hit me out of nowhere. We have so many lasts that it gets missed. The last nap, the last cartoon, the last of holding a baby and singing it to sleep. I once took in the deep intoxicating smell of my small baby boy. That smell still lingers in distant memory never to be forgotten. Now he smells as a stinky boy preparing for the next leg into growing up.

I am growing older I saw that in the photo. My son came into my life as I was leaving adolescence in my dust. As the saying goes there is no manual to having children, we all wing it hoping for the best. I held my baby for the first time and the last time I held him tightly in my arms when he was four. Where did the time go? I dropped him off on his first day of kindergarten and this was the first of the last times. Yesterday he finished grade two onto the summer of learning fun and adventure. Will this be the last summer we play with reckless abandon. How will I know this will be the last time we do anything?

He no longer collects tiny metal cars, I looked inside his room. It no longer holds home to a little boy filled to the brim with imagination. It holds the image of growing older. Science books and homework thrown about. Clothes with loud labels surround the floor. Try as I might with each passing day the last of little boyhood is growing away from him. The bond as baby boy and mother is now growing into a bond of a mother and her young son. Different responsibilities overtaking the loud fun we once had. I can’t remember the last time we were tickle monsters of TravisVille.

Everyone says if you blink they grow up so fast. I blinked of course as all parents do. I am sad to see the years creep up ever so silently. Missing the markers of my sons childhood and held them for granted. If only I was wiser I would hold onto the last times like hostages until somebody else said time to let go. I’m not quite ready to let go just yet. I want to hold my eyes open wide in order to not miss what is left of my sons childhood. The parenting nature doesn’t work that way. I will blink again and before me will stand my adult son onto his next adventure.

With this I say hold onto your babies a minute longer as you don’t know if this time is the first of the lasts. Hold your breath with passing moment of time and hold those true to your hearts so that way you can appreciate the fleeting time of growing older.

Written by Ali Johnson

My son at three months of age.
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