Seven

Charlie,

It seems like just yesterday that I laid beside you on the living room floor as I read the book Love You Forever  It seems like just yesterday when I laid on that floor and your entire body didn’t even cover the length of my torso.  We laid there, you and I, as I sang the words. . .

I get a lump in my throat even now as I remember it.  As I remember the way the tears flowed from my eyes as I was struck with the profound love I felt for you.  A love that you can’t really understand right now, but I trust that someday you will. 

Seven years later, Charlie, the words are still true.  Whether 7 days, 7 months, or 7 years. . . as long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.

A funny thing happens when you have a baby.  You hold your baby in your arms and you think to yourself (and tell anyone who will listen), “I didn’t know I could love something this much.”  You feel so much love that you’re sure your heart will burst. Really, your heart is so full that you’re certain that it is filled to the brim and not another ounce could get in.

And then your baby starts to grow.  He begins to speak and think and act on his own.  He begins to have ideas and feelings and interests that are his and his alone and suddenly you realize that you love him even more.  Somehow, the Mama’s heart that was filled to the top with love?  It grows.  It grows with even more love for this baby that has become a person.

Charlie, I absolutely enjoy the person you are becoming.

Throughout the previous year I have watched you grow in confidence.  I have watched you begin to spread your wings and do things that scared you.  At age seven you know what you like and what you don’t like and I’ve never once seen you swayed by “the crowd”. 

Just a few weeks ago someone asked you, “what scares you?”  You didn’t even think about it before answering. . . “new things” you said.  I couldn’t have answered that better myself.  It’s true, new things scare you but you want to know something?  I’ve never once seen you run away from your fear.  Over and over again you have marched ahead faced your fears.

For that, Charlie, we could not be more proud of you. 
Oh, but there is so much more.  There are so many things that I wish people knew about you.  Like how when you  genuinely smile you have a little dimple in your cheek that becomes so pronounced it forces anyone who is with you to smile, too.

Or how much you adore your Daddy and how you not only want to be with him, but you want to be like him.

And something else people probably don’t know?  They don’t know that inside that high-energy, on-the-go, wide eyed, broad smiled boy lies a deep and sensitive and tender spirit.  A spirit that feels everything.  A spirit that is filled with kindness, gentleness, and love.

Oh, and as far as big brothers go?  I’m certain there are none better. . .

Charlie, as your Mom I probably will not always understand the things you are going through.  I’ve never been a boy. . . I can’t get it.  But I want you to know this. . .