I sit, looking out the window, watching a boy and his dog. My boy. He is running circles on the trampoline and speaking to himself. A game, or story, inside his head. The back door is swung open, fall is coming, the cool air is welcome after a long, hot, summer. He used to be afraid to go outside by himself. He used to need me more. He used to, he used to, he used to. He is changing. I am too.
We struggled to bond. I struggled. I thought his timing was wrong. He was patient with me, and I slowly gained the understanding that his timing was exactly right. I learned to hold on tight. He still lets me hold on tight for a moment, before he flies away to wrestle the great big world. He is moving on to greater independence, and I am letting him go.
Mothering, I will be dedicated to it for the rest of my life. The dynamic is shifting. His needs are different. It is new, and so exciting. As I sit and watch him play I feel a stirring. I am blessed, this has been so good. We have transitioned from baby to child to little person wonderfully. His world is so full, and I can't wait to watch him grow.