Throwback Thursday. This post is from 2020, time just flies by, savor the moments and build your stories.
40 Reflections: 40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season
It wasn’t long ago when I could still pick up our youngest. He’d nestle his head in the cozy crook of my neck and we’d sway back and forth like a pendulum.
Then one sunny day after picking him up from baseball practice, I looked into the rearview mirror and there it was…adolescence.
Oh, you’ll know it when you see it.
It looks a lot like the top of a teenager’s head. Yes, all I could see in that little rectangular reflection was a blue screen shining up at my son’s face and the curved top of a baseball cap.
Where was my little guy who would yell out the make and model of every car that passed and guessed how long it would take for every light to turn green? Why wasn’t he singing “Wheels on the bus” loudly or recounting his slick baseball moves play by play?
He was changing by the minute. One second we’re holding hands walking home from the bus stop recounting recess triumphs and the next he can’t wait to start weight lifting class and drive to high school with his brother and sister. Ugh.
Honestly, my son is a teenager who is quite independent. But he’s still just a kid. I mean, out of habit (and my keen sense of smell), I still have to remind him showering is not optional. And like a broken record, I futilely encourage flossing and turning clothes right side out. Luckily his love of play supersedes all. He still asks me to be his quarterback, play Yahtzee, and read together…I’ll hold onto those moments as long as possible.
Time ticks by without even asking. So as I file the snuggly moments away in my heart, I remind myself to make every minute count. He may have passed me in height, but I still get my hugs — that’s usually when I whisper…”time to shower”.
Here’s a great blurb I found from The Center for Resilient Leadership. I love the way it describes adolescence:
Adolescence is a period of transformation, not unlike a chrysalis changing into a butterfly. If you have never seen this process, it can be painstakingly difficult to watch. The butterfly gradually breaks free of his cocoon, pulling and pushing, stretching and contracting for what seems like an eternity before he finally emerges. If a benevolent onlooker decides to help the process along, the butterfly will likely die, because it is only through the struggle of metamorphosis that he gains the strength to survive on his own.