For Spencer

 

Oh, Spud.  I'm not sure I can write this post.  Of all the things I'm heart sick about these days, your aging ranks HIGH on the list.  But I'm afraid it's inevitable.  "It's going to be my birthday in a few miles!"  you whispered to one of your preschool buddies the other day.

And so it is.  Tomorrow, in fact. 
 

 

I'm trying not to panic.  I know that the privilege of watching you grow is, in fact, a gift.  That you're not really mine.  That the years ahead will be good.  That I have your littleness in my heart. 

 

 

 

 

 

But I couldn't help spending most of last evening watching old videos of you.  I knew I'd cry myself to sleep when I was done, but I didn't care.  I wanted to refresh my fuzzy memories of your squishy six month old laugh and your treasured two year old voice. 

 

 

 

All of those scenes - all of that everyday love - has left me somewhat speechless.  Maybe soon I'll be up to a good ol' documentary of your current antics and your birthday festivities.  But right now there's a lot to keep and ponder in my heart.

 

 

Happy Birthday, sweet baby boy.