Ready, Steady

On this ordinary, quiet, dull morning double digit years since I’ve witnessed a first step and welcomed a toothless, smiling, joyful baby into my arms for some mama love, about the only thing I know for sure is that there’s no such thing as perfect. I know that even if I’d made different choices once or twice or every time I was charged to choose something or the other, there would still be tears, and anger and disappointment. But damn it, today I’m missing a big first step. One that’s supposed to be in my photo albums later: him standing in front of his dorm, rolling his eyes because I insisted on pictures. Him standing in his empty dorm room, surrounded by Rubbermaid totes and not-so-secretly wishing I’d go take a walk or something so he could do his thing. One that’s supposed to assure me that after all the picking up and twirling around and hugging and hugging and hugging and putting him back down on solid, steady and ready feet, that it’s time for me to go.

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