I suppose I had wondered before that day what it might be like to be a mother, but it wasn’t until that night that I knew for sure. I gave my life to that boy in the most literal sense. I wasn’t there every minute nor was I the mother that he might have ordered. But he is the child of stardust far beyond what I could have imagined, dreamed up, or conjured.
He holds my heart in his eyes. He keeps my soul inside his voice. I grew up watching his progress and found myself as I saw him learn to fly.
His hurts are my tears. His joys are so much less than he deserves. His gifts are a wonder. He doesn’t know how fond people are of him, how they miss him when he leaves a room. He shines so brightly. Folks can’t help but follow his light, can’t help but think about what’s missing when he’s not there.
He is my sun, my stars, my sky. I was with him at the beginning. I will be there until the end.
On August 2, a boy was born. On August 2, a man now stands. Happy birthday, sweet son of mine.
−me strauss Letting me be