Today, you took the hymnal from the pew and looked up the next song, and placed a marker in it so we would be ready when the music started. Then you reached for the hymnal beside your dad, and did the same for him. After replacing the hymnal, you patted his arm lovingly.
And my eyes filled up with tears. Because there’s no way I can remember all these moments. No way to hang on to every kind gesture of your young heart, every funny thing you say, all the times when you are so uniquely you! I can’t memorize the smallness of your hands, (they keep changing) or the silly dance moves, or the zillion hilarious lego creations you share with me.
But don’t you think for one minute that I’m not trying. I’m soaking up these days like rain in the desert. My mind is constantly documenting and cataloging; I’m your “mamarazzi” but subtle and quiet-like. I can never capture the true spirit of the moment in my memory though. And that’s what made me cry today. I’m gonna miss this. I’m gonna miss this so bad.
So if when you do a sweet thing, you notice tears in my eye, that’s why. Because I never want to forget who you are today. Because I’m trying so hard to hold onto the experience, and I know the memory can’t hold a candle to the real thing. Because I’m your mama, and you’re my boy, but one day you’ll be so much more than that. Because your hands won’t stay little and one day, your daddy and I will have to look up our own music.
But I blink back the tears, take another mental picture, and enjoy the real life moment of Now. We sing together, your hand on one side of the book, and mine on the other, and I know every minute is a gift from God.