A Sunday in June

I was always there for you, from day one. Changing diapers, mending broken toys, gently wiping away tears, placing band-aid's on imaginary boo-boo's.

I drove you to - and picked you up from - school, every day for years and years. Drove you to the ballpark and cheered even if you played poorly. Bought way too many Christmas presents, then revelled in the look in your eyes in the morning. Helped you do your homework, even going so far as doing it for you when a little break was in order. Acted cool even though totally choked up when you played the mouse in the pre-K play.

I cried in a bathroom where no one could see me when you won your first sports trophy. Then cried again by myself when you won your tenth...eleventh....and twelfth. My delight at your grade point average in school was even greater, and I hated the unwritten "Parental non-bragging rule." I've wanted to scream out how smart you are for so long, but proper decorum dictated otherwise.

I chewed your ass for the most minor of mistakes, then spent hours wondering if I had pushed too hard. I've mapped out your future so many times I've forgotten which version I was on. I've come to realize your future is yours alone, and it's not my right to dictate which direction you should go. I've learned to answer questions when I'm asked, and I'm still learning to shut up when not.

I hated it when all I wanted was some peace and quiet so I could have my coffee and read the Sunday paper and you decided to play one thousand questions with me. I'll hate it worse when you're gone and all I'll have is a phone call now and then.

I already miss the days when you sat on my lap and kissed me on the cheek. I miss the days when you volunteered that you loved me, unlike now, when I have to read your eyes to gain confirmation. I miss the days when you asked me big-kid questions, even though you were so small and pure.

I have 4 days that will forever be known as the greatest days of my life. December 2nd, November 24th, January 18th, and June 15th...followed closely by the day the oldest of you wore that beautiful white gown.

Just in case...just in case I forget...I think I'll take this time to tell you that I love you, and always have.

And no. I'm not your mom.