He was and still is my little buddy. We had so many adventures together. Every day we would take a walk around the neighborhood, bending down to look through the grates of the drains in the street. This boy was obsessed with drains!
Picking up rocks and putting them in his pockets until he ran out of room and then had to make the torturous decision of which ones to keep and which ones to “swap” out. Happily chatting with the neighbors and making friends wherever he went. I have a vivid memory of walking with him and holding his little chubby hand when he was about 2 years old. I looked down at that little hand and tried to memorize every dimple.
Tried to absorb into my skin, into my very soul, how it felt to hold that hand in mine.
I knew that this little hand would
It would not want to be in my hand as often.
It would pull away to go explore the world. As it should!
This boy of mine turned three and began a love affair with trains. I still cannot see a real one without immediately thinking,
“Oh Ian would love that one! It has a cool hopper car.”
He would lay on the floor so he could see the wheels of his little wooden trains turning.
And I soon realized that I, myself, had learned how to put together a layout for train tracks like nobody’s business. “Hey buddy, if we use this switch track and attach it to this curvy piece here then it will all connect!”
This boy of mine soon transitioned this obsession for trains into a true love of all things mechanical. One day we realized a toy had broken and he looked at me and said,
“Hey mom, can I take this apart?”
“Ummm…sure, I guess!”
Little did I know how those simple words would change my world.