A Letter to My Little Boy

My little Wes...

You're five years old. Five! And so filled with simplistic wisdom. Your curiosity, always wanting to know not just how, but why things work the way they do. "I don't know" is never an acceptable answer for you. If I don't know the answer, you want me to look it up, as if you already know that knowledge is something that must be sought out and gathered and taken in and made your own. You amaze me. And I wonder how I ever got to be so blessed. To be the one to answer when you call "Mommy." To have the privilege of tucking you in at night and waking you up in the morning....or more often, being awakened by your sweet, round face, your perfect nose just inches from mine, your five-year-old not-so-quiet whispers excitedly announcing the day.

I wonder if I will teach you the right things. I wonder if my example will be one that I would want you to follow, or one that I would caution you to ignore.

I wonder if you will listen to me about good music, or if you will lean toward the interests of your father. :) I wonder if you will always sing in the car the way you do now. Snippets of songs you love, played by request and repeated to your delight. I wonder if you will always put on little concerts for me, telling me specifically how you wish to be introduced and correcting me when my tone or volume isn't just right. I know you won't....I'm trying to soak it all in so I can one day say "Remember when..."

I wonder if I will always have a clear picture of you waving to me from your preschool classroom, one little hand adjusting your tiny glasses and the other sweeping the air with resignation, calling after me in the hallway to make sure I see you, to make sure I hear your reminders. I always do. And I wonder if I will ever think of this and not have tears that fall in audible drops.

I wonder if you'll always think I'm a "genius" or if someday I'll know nothing at all. I wonder if you'll always believe that I can answer all of your questions, that I can do anything, that I can always protect you.

I wonder if you'll ever know how I failed you in the first years of your life. That I screamed back at you in frustration when you were only three and how I hate so much that I can never take that back. I wonder if I will ever learn to accept the forgiveness you so readily offered and still do.

I wonder if you will always feel compassion for those around you. And I pray that you will always carry that light inside you, the light that seeks to shine upon others and brighten the spirits of those who feel forgotten.

I wish I could tell you that little part about sticks and stones and broken bones and that words will never hurt you, but the fact is that words will hurt the most. Blood dries and cuts heal and bruises fade, but the blows to your heart, your confidence, those are the ones that ache unseen...sometimes for years, sometimes forever.

I wonder if I'll ever really be the mommy that you so innocently believe I am....

I'm trying, baby. I'm trying.