Today, I have been a mother for twenty-two years.
I’ve learned so much.
And still know so little.
But Elder has been a patient son. For the most part.
He doesn’t let me count little fingers and toes anymore, but he still hugs me when he sees me and when he leaves me. He doesn’t hold my hand when we cross a parking lot anymore, but he still tells me when he makes it to a destination safely.
He doesn’t think I can solve all of life’s problems anymore, but he still thinks I can fix many of them.
Sometimes, I miss my little boy.
But then I hear my grown man laugh.
And I know my little boy is still with me.
He’s just taller.
A lot, lot taller.