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We celebrated his birthday in Italy after school ended. It’ll definitely be a time he won’t forget. But I never would have thought his growing up would be so magical. He moved in with me at age 5 and officially became mine a little under 2 years later thanks to the pandemic. Watching him patiently shift, grow, stir, and bloom has been somewhat of an aching experience, though in the best kinds of ways. He is still a wild boy, impulsive and crass as always. He’s always been one to make vulgar sex jokes, even then, and the amount of affection and love in his heart has just always been limitless. He’s the type of boy who I have made so many wonderful, beautiful, perfect memories with. Whose ferocity, tenacity, and volume are unmistakable. Whose words, expressions, and thoughts are often all that I need to fuel my desire to live, move, and breathe. Whose very presence brings me so much joy and inspiration. Whose appreciation and dedication to existing every day in their most authentic way give me so much hope for tomorrow. So much has changed, and yet so little hasn’t as well. That’s what is so strange. I’m always going to remember that stumbly, clumsy, loudmouth who despised vegetables, parades, and clothes. Who’d sling around the house pretending to be Spider-Man and would try to climb up everything. Who would and could always shit talk his way through any situation and rescue me from long family reunions by pretending to fall asleep on my shoulder so that I would have an excuse to load him into the truck. Who’d constantly say, again and again, “Let’s do something! Let’s do something! Let’s do something!” In that raspy, gravelly, tiny little cracked voice. Who’d refer to his crutches, after he sprained his ankle, as his “crunches”. Who’d wake up at three in the morning asking if we could go skiing on a school night. This upcoming year he’s going to be traveling a lot farther for school. Many of his friends are going too, which is good. They’re a very rough and tumble crew, which I wouldn’t mind if he weren’t the roughest and most tumbly, but they do a good job looking out for him and they respect me a lot (probably because I pretty much speak to them all like I would any adult). Two boys in particular I can tell are strong-headed and are very good to him, so I don’t feel that nervous. They’re both on his wrestling team too, so that helps a lot. But I am sort of feeling like this upcoming year will be a new chapter in some sort of way. I don’t know in what way though, beyond the fact that I won’t be able to see as much of him come fall. The teen years are a bit of a point of no return though for many boys. While I wouldn’t describe him as been teen like exactly, in a way he’s always sort of had sort of teenager kind of presence even when he was very tiny. And so I don’t know how he’ll end up compensating now that his body is becoming broader and bigger. It’s a sort of a scary time, or at least it should be. I don’t feel nervous. But I also feel like I should be prepared in some way. I don’t know, up to now I’ve mostly just sort of been a manager for his life. Or at least that’s how it has felt. He goes where he wants and I mostly just follow and make sure he doesn’t get hurt, and then somehow he sort of just teaches himself everything. He’s such a big chatter that he practically doesn’t even have to ask me that many questions. He just picks up the facts of life and existence through conversational communication and that’s it. That’s been his method this whole time and it has worked for him pretty well. His spelling is better than his math, but he’s better at both than I was at his age. Raising a kid feels really weird. It’s both incredibly rewarding and fulfilling on a deep level, but it’s also unpredictable and moves way too quickly. He’ll always be my little rollercoaster. |