Blessed

I was riding home on an airplane last Friday night, quietly reading my magazine, when Ben touched my shoulder and then my hand. They were little pats, something he did several times while we were away on our two-day trip to Washington D.C. together.

I smiled and touched his hand back. Then he took his little hand and twined his fingers through mine and went on talking with his dad. My eyes started brimming right then.

I am so blessed to be this boy's mom.  When I'm having a hard day, he's so quick to sympathize with "I'm so sorry Mom." He is quick to do his chores, an avid learner, loves to have me read to him. He's brutally honest too: "Well, Dad is really a more fun parent. But I love you anyway."

Looking at that little hand in mine, reading a magazine with advice to daughter-in-laws to always give their mom-in-law time alone with her son when visiting, I couldn't help but realize that this little man is on his way to being an adult. He already analyzes things so thoughtfully. He is coming to terms with the outside world, as I realized as he watched the hotel lobby television news about the Connecticut children going back for their first day at a new school after so many of their teachers and classmates had been killed. He was serious, focused as we talked about how scary it would be for them and their families. His knowledge is already surpassing mine in some areas (e.g. Latin).

That little hand will one day be a large hand,  and I will release him in many ways, so many times. I cannot know what the future holds, but I'm hopeful for him, and so honored to be his mom.