Dear Caleb,
When you were born, I felt it all. The rush of love. The
great fear. The incomparable awe. The overflowing joy. You were just a tiny, fragile
thing with soulful eyes and a prickly cry. Sometimes I close my eyes and
journey back to those days in the hospital when everything in your life and our
lives were so brand new. In one moment, I became a mom and everything else I
thought was important suddenly started drifting off into the background.
Six years later, I am in the same spot I seem to be every
year. Struggling for words to sum it all up. This past year, your whole life
and how you’ve changed mine. I just can never do it. And I want to be so
careful about my words with you these days, Caleb, because I know you are a
sensitive boy with a great memory. I want my feelings for you to stick the
right places in your heart and never get lost amidst all of the other details you so
carefully store in there.
You’ve grown so much this past year. You stepped into five
years old with pride and confidence right away. You played on three different
sports teams and scored touchdowns, goals and baskets as we screamed from the
sidelines. And you made us proud, not only with your natural ability, but
because you played when you didn’t always feel like it, you cheered on others’
successes and you practiced so hard to become better. You never gave up.
You walked into a new classroom at a new school with all new
people, and you bravely sat
down at your desk and let us walk out of the door. You wore your uniform and
did your homework and said your lines at the Christmas program. You seamlessly
slipped into the school-age years and shined doing so.
You became a lover of Legos and can already build so much on
your own, but still treasure working on them with your dad. Your most requested
meal has to be orange chicken. You still thrive on schedules and routines. You
haven’t outgrown biting your lip or scratching my nail. You lost three teeth
and the tooth fairy even made it to Spokane. You helped catch crabs and sharks
on Whidbey Island. You wore shorts every day you could get away with it. You
read books and memorized Bible verses. You were a great teacher to your little sis.
You became my buddy in a truer sense of the word. My
shopping companion, my snuggler on the couch. You asked thought-provoking
questions and said hilarious things. I love how our conversations have evolved
and the laughter between us has grown.
And all of this is why I’m okay with you growing older. It’s
so hard, SO hard, to watch another year pass. I never knew it would be this
hard for me. But it’s also so good. So sweet. So rich and rewarding. Because
you’re you, and you just get better. You just make us better, too, Caleb.
I don’t know what I ever did without you.
So just remember, you were great at being five, Caleb B. So
brave and awesome. You made us so proud every single day and I can say that
without even the slightest exaggeration. I know six has big things in store for
you and all I know is that I’m the absolute luckiest to watch each year turn
to the next with you.
Love you to the moon and a million trillion.
Mama
