The other night I was finally getting around to folding the laundry that had been piled up on the love seat at the foot of my bed when it happened.
I know I should have been more prepared for it. I mean, there had been warning signs leading up to this point but I must have ignored them.
I went to put my sons white socks in his pile and my white socks in my pile when I realized I had mixed them up.
Because they were so close to the same size.
When did this happen??? How did this happen??? It cannot be possible that my little boy has feet that are almost as big as mine and will very soon surpass mine in size.
Lately I’ve been feeling like I’m standing on a precipice. I know I can’t go back but I’m clinging to the last bits and pieces of this season in my life. Of little hands that still instinctively reach for mine when we’re crossing the street or just walking through the park. Of wooden puzzles and trains that rarely get played with anymore but I can’t bring myself to part with. Of a boy who will be 10 next week but still has a vivid imagination and even humors his sister by pretending to be her pet cheetah or various other animals. I sneak in at night and watch him sleeping and he looks like he did when he was four. He still has ‘Paco’, his trusted stuffed horse, nestled in with him and I wipe his hair off his forehead. And I pray for him.
Then I catch a whiff of that not-so-pleasant “boy” smell that seems to follow him everywhere these days no matter how often he showers and I’m reminded of that precipice.
It’s not that I don’t totally and completely enjoy the moment’s of today and look forward to the moment’s of tomorrow!
It’s just that I feel so intensely the proverbial finishing of one chapter of the book and beginning of the next.
Life is a series of precipices, isn’t it? And we arrive at the edge of each one knowing full well that there are more ahead.
So, I do those things that provide continuity. The things which seem to be invisible threads running between each precipice.
Things like baking.
And so I make my almost double-digit boy Homemade Toaster Pastries.
Because he loves pie crust and would frankly be happy with just a plate of pie crust with nothing on it or baked into it.
But, I thought he might like these too. Little rectangles of pie crust filled with strawberry jam. Others filled with Nuetella (those may or may not have been eaten in a matter of seconds!).
And topped with icing or powdered sugar. Or both.
He wanted both.
As he sat at the counter eating the warm, fresh from the oven toaster pastry we talked and laughed and everything felt so much…the same. We’ve had this moment before, him sitting at the counter eating and chattering while I cleaned the kitchen.
And we’ll have it again.
And, maybe next time I’ll make his dreams come true and just give him a plate full of pie crust!
Thanks so much for meeting me here At the Picket Fence today,