My mind is still reeling over how we got here so fast. I mean, one minute ago you were glued to my side, making yourself at home on my lap every chance you got, and the next there is enough space between us to fill the Universe. Your little hand in mine feels like yesterday and a lifetime all in the same slow exhale.
Be patient with me as I learn to let you go.
You see, I dreamed about you before you were even a possibility.
I dreamed of you when the doctors and tests said no.
I dreamed of you while I carried you in my heart and my soul.
I dreamed of you while I waited for the phone to ring and again in the labor and delivery wing.
And then, suddenly, you were there. Your tiny hand wrapped around my finger in an empty hospital room, looking up at me with no eyes of mine, asking me to love you.
But you see, I already did, because you were my dream before I even knew you existed.
So you’ll have to excuse me while I learn to unwind myself from over a decade of being the center of your world.
I’ll ask you one million questions about your day just so I can feel like I’m still a part of it.
I’ll hug you too long and squeeze too hard just to try and close this widening gap.
I’ll try and cover up my quivering voice and wet eyes when you ask me if you can walk the girl you like home every day. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I still have your little voice in my head at the same time…the one who asked me every day to marry him, because you lived in a world where you thought you could be with your mom forever. I guess I still live in that world sometimes too.
And lastly, don’t be alarmed if you wake up in the middle of the night and I’m hovering over you. It’s where my best prayers get said, and my heart stops beating so fast because I know you are safely tucked in your bed. I’ve been doing it for nearly 12 years and I’m not kicking the habit anytime soon.
Sweet boy, from the day you grew in my heart until the end of forever, no dream of mine will ever top dreaming of you. No hope of mine will ever come close to the hope you brought me. And twelve years later, I’m still dreaming of the man you’ll become. I dream of seeing you succeed. Of watching you fly. I know you will. So, be patient with me as I loosen these hands that held you through crib slats and first days. Be patient with me as I relax these arms that carried you through long nights and winding trails. Be patient with me as I learn to do less holding on and more letting go.
As the years begin to separate you from me, I hope the feeling of being so completely loved, supported, and adored, will always bring you back for more.
This story was submitted to Love What Matters by Kortni M. You can follow her journey on Instagram. Submit your own story here and be sure to subscribe to our free email newsletter for our best stories, and YouTube for our best videos.
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