The other day the girls and I were watching a home video. Four year old Cory was so proud that he could read a book all by himself. He and his oldest little sister (the other two were still blessings to be imagined) were cuddled up with grammie while he read, "These are his socks. Does he put them on like this? No! He puts them on his feet. This is his shirt. Does he put it on like this? No! He puts it over his head." While it wasn't a correct word for word reading and only a memorized rendition, grammie couldn't have been prouder. Not to be outdone, the 3 year old sister proceeded to 'read' Disney's version of Cinderella. Cory was so patient as Hillary read, only giving 'big brother' correction when it was absolutely necessary. Sweet, understanding Hillary always responded with a meek, "BUBBIE!!"
Big, handsome, strong, kind... and 25! That's my baby coaching those high-schoolers. That's my baby sporting a full beard and hugging his sisters good-bye as he drives away to his home that isn't my home.
I remember cementing a memory on purpose. Twenty four and a half years ago as I was walking across the porch of our first home, I caught a reflection in the front window of myself with this chubby, long-legged 6 month old dangling on my hip. I just stopped and stared and thought, I want to remember this... someday (which seemed eternally far in the future) he will be a young man and I want to remember this. I do.
Blessings, The Mama