... it's already over and i've barely even begun...

Somewhere between the chaos and the calm, another year ran out.

I've seen the date on the calendar(s), circled and bolded and decorated in exclamation points.  I saw it at the start of the year, when first my pen began filling in all the empty boxes of future days.  I saw it, and my breath caught for a moment as I sensed its nearness.  Its inevitability.  Its finality.  I saw it and my hand stilled, pen hovering.  Then the clock started up again and the breath expelled and my hand guided pen to paper to write out

!!!J-Bug's 16th Birthday!!!

I saw it again when I pulled down the January page from the fridge door, and straightened the remaining stack.  There it was.  Startlingly conspicuous.  Heavy handed in the printing.  The lines etched deep into the paper.

It was...

a reminder

a warning

a dare.

It was a reminder that all too soon, my 15 year old would be gone.  Simply gone.  In and out of existence in one tick of the clock.  One moment here and familiar and oh-so-loved.  Next moment, nothing but memory.  It was a reminder of every single moment of high and low and in-between that had made up the days since 28.February.2018.

It was a warning to prepare.  To ready my heart and head for something new...someone new...someone 16.  It was a warning of change to come and doors to close and things familiar to put away and become estranged from.

It was, more than anything though, a dare.  A dare to fill up every moment of the remaining days with enough substance to last the rest of forever.  A dare to make it go on, this 15th year, even as it sped toward its inevitable conclusion.

It was all those things...that notation.

And now?

Now...

It's tomorrow...

And I'm heartbroken to say goodbye to him...

And eager to meet him...

As I look at the calendar now, I see the date and the years all swirl round in my head...a series of numbers and question marks...all those blank boxes of the future...of 16 and 17 and 18 and 21 and 25 and 30 and so on...

...of years I can't even begin to imagine.

This is not what I imagined it would be.  Not what I dreamt up when I was pregnant, hand cradling belly and smiling serenely in the daze of hope and promise that an unwritten story offers.  It's not what I prayed for when the view darkened and my world went silent and the narrative was in the hands of doctors and specialists.  It's not what other mothers promised me; their experience and wisdom and humor on the tips of their tongues.

It is not what I imagined at all.

It is deeper and richer in hue.

Louder in volume.

Heavier in weight.

Limitless in import.

It is everything.

But...beyond.

It is pushing past the limit and diving deeper and dredging up far more.

And it is changing.

His changing sparking my own.

Each new year as he grows into a new version, there are new things to discover and learn and experience.  There are new pursuits to master.  New hobbies to familiarize myself with.  New paths to follow.  New risks to take.  New limits to break.

It's not what I imagined at all.

I thought I would be the one leading the way.

Instead, I follow in his footsteps now.
I go where he pushes me.
I scout out the new territory he wants to explore before returning to let him guide me through it.

And I clench my fists so my hands stay empty.  I let him step off without my hand to keep him steady.  I drop back a step or two.

And I wait for that inevitable moment when he does look back and, having seen it for himself, invites me to join him...

~Leanna