Updated: Apr 14, 2018
My Dear and Beautiful Boys,
It’s Easter morning and you are both sleeping, soundly in your bed. You likely will be for hours to come yet, your growing bodies stretched and tangled under the covers of your bunk beds. Cleo, the cat who has loved you almost as long as I have, nestled in against a leg somewhere. Since the beginning you have both slept better in the same room. Even when we had more space than we knew what to do with, having you share a room always worked best. Faster to sleep, longer to stay there, less waking, fretful moments.
You are both growing so quickly. At 15 and 13 you look more like men than boys and I wonder when it is we turned this corner. And yet despite your height and your deepening voices and your push for independence, I see layers of you. All the way back to your birth. Imprinted.
You’re leaving later today for your week with your Dad and I miss you already. There’s something about just knowing that you’re asleep in your beds here that makes life comfortable. I know it’s necessary though. A foreshadowing of years to come. You will leave. You will explore your independence, you will build tribes and you will create a life that looks different from this one. You will spend your time in places I’ve never been, open your hearts to people I haven’t met, and find meaning in things I will never understand. And this is the order of things. The way it needs to be. You will love me still, of course. You will pop in and out, checking in, grounding, before going back to the life you have built. But you will be fine. You will be free. You will be excellent. This is how I will know I have done well by you.
You will also separate from each other to some extent. It’s unlikely that your future selves will have bunk beds anyhow. I hope though, as you go and grow through the changing seasons of life, you remember the peace and quiet comfort you have always found in each other. You are very different boys and you will be very different men. As siblings do, you will play and compete and you will disagree with each other. You may have periods of acrimony and tension. You may hurt each other unintentionally or deliberately. As siblings do. I hope though, as every mother must, that you remember and draw from the comfort that just being in the same room together has given you. It’s a wellspring and a foundational source of strength and I hope that you both continue to know it.
It’s a strange place, as a mother, as a parent, this place where boys become men in front of your eyes. Where there are daily reminders that your role of caregiver in chief is becoming less necessary. Where you see glimpses of a life on the other side of full-time motherhood and it’s as abstract as the idea of motherhood was to begin with. This is the order of things though. The beautiful, life affirming, perpetual and unstoppable order of things. Happy Easter my darling boys. May the next chapter be as wonderful as the last.
With Love Always,