I don’t remember the last time I held you.
I remember the first time you opened your eyes. They were bigger than I thought they were going to be. Your face was so tiny that I guess I assumed your eyes would be tiny too, but they filled up that little face quite nicely.
I remember the first time you laughed. The room exploded with joy… it was almost tangible. Like I could grab all those giggles, put them in a jar, and save them for a rainy day.
I remember the day you rolled over for the very first time. I sat by you on that floor for a good solid hour because you were so close and I was not about to miss it! I was so proud of you! “You did it, you did it baby girl!” I exclaimed. You gave me that cheeky grin of yours, the one that told me you knew you made your mama proud and rolled over again.
Pretty soon you were rolling back and forth and all over the room. Then you started crawling. Boy did I have to keep an eye on you when you started crawling! You tried to eat everything in sight, even that dead fly you found on the floor. “Yucky,” you said, as you shoved it in your mouth.
Crawling became standing, and standing became walking; before I knew it I was helping you blow out the candles on your very first birthday cake. “Happy birthday to you” I sang, as you stared at the dancing flames with those big baby eyes and squealed.
I remember it all so vividly: the way your skin felt when I pressed it against my lips, the way you grabbed my face with those chubby fingers that were much stronger than they looked, the way your two little teeth poked out of your slobbery mouth when you smiled, the way your freckles danced across your nose and onto your round, red cheeks, the way you laid your head on my shoulder when your little body finally got too tired to play. I remember the way you called for your “mama,” like I was the most important person in your world…
… because I was.
I remember the tears, the diapers, the expressions, and each little smile. I remember the late nights, the first times, the lullabies and all the messes.
I remember all of it.
But, I don’t remember the last time I held you.
No, that one snuck up on me.
I never saw it coming.
One day I picked you up, and the next day I didn’t.
Just like that, you went from my baby to a little person…
… and I missed it.
How could I miss it?
I kept your drawings, I saved your favorite blanket, I took every special moment and locked it away in my heart. But I missed the last time I held you and I don’t know how I let that happen. You slipped through my fingers as I lowered you from my arms to the floor and let you run off without even realizing what I had just done. Just like that, you grew up, and I never carried you again.
Now I sit and watch you.
I watch you explore this world on your own two feet. I watch you fight your dragons and I watch you overcome your fears. I watch you do everything you used to need me to do, without me. You are strong and brave and beautiful and I couldn’t be more proud.
But I also miss you.
I miss those little legs that got worn out so quickly. “Hold me, Mommy! My legs are so tired and I can’t take another step!” I told you to keep walking, we were almost to the car and I had to get home and make dinner. I was running out of time. I thought I was too busy.
I’m not busy now. I know better now. I’m ready to hold you. I’m ready to squeeze you in my arms and never let go.
I should have never let go.
“Do you want me to carry you?” I say as we walk to the park. “It’s okay Mom,” you reply, “I don’t need you to carry me! I can walk by myself.” You giggle at my suggestion as you skip down the sidewalk.
I take a mental picture of this moment. I’m smarter now. I know one day will be the last day you ask me to take you to the park. One day you’ll be taller and stronger and older and you’ll stop sliding on slides. One day “now”, will become a last.
I don’t remember the last time I held you.
But I’m going to remember this.
