It’s finally here. December 28, the day my prompt on Reverb10 airs. If you’ve been following the prompts you know that each one has allowed us to look back and reflect, but also to look forward with hope and promise to the next year.
So here is my prompt:
Defining moment. Describe a defining moment or series of events that has affected your life this year.
And here is my answer: This year’s defining moment was when my oldest son received an appointment to the United States Naval Academy on Christmas Eve. I was overjoyed for him but at the same time I know it means he is leaving our home…for a very long time. How is it that he is all grown up? Just yesterday I took him to his first day of Kindergarten (that's his "first day of school" photo above). Where did all the time go?
I cleaned out my sons’(I have two teenage boys) game room last week. I stacked plastic boxes of Legos and GI Joes and X-box games and Playstation controllers. I placed them all in neat rows, then stood back. And for a moment, I wished that Lego police station/airport/city center was still spread across the floor, taking up the whole space so that it was hard to take more than three steps into the room. I wished it because it would mean my son was nine again. And I would have eight more years to spend with him.
Now, every night he walks in the door after practice is a gift. I find myself taking photos of him for no reason. At his last home game I took over 400 photos because I knew I would never see him play water polo again.
But there he is, six feet two, seventeen, going off to become who he will be, with his hopes and his dreams and his eagerness to serve, leaving us here to walk by his room and wait for his phone calls.
Letting go is hard, but necessary. It is something that causes me to hold my hand over my heart, as if shielding it from the pain.
I think I will have to get another dog.
So here is my prompt:
Defining moment. Describe a defining moment or series of events that has affected your life this year.
And here is my answer: This year’s defining moment was when my oldest son received an appointment to the United States Naval Academy on Christmas Eve. I was overjoyed for him but at the same time I know it means he is leaving our home…for a very long time. How is it that he is all grown up? Just yesterday I took him to his first day of Kindergarten (that's his "first day of school" photo above). Where did all the time go?
I cleaned out my sons’(I have two teenage boys) game room last week. I stacked plastic boxes of Legos and GI Joes and X-box games and Playstation controllers. I placed them all in neat rows, then stood back. And for a moment, I wished that Lego police station/airport/city center was still spread across the floor, taking up the whole space so that it was hard to take more than three steps into the room. I wished it because it would mean my son was nine again. And I would have eight more years to spend with him.
Now, every night he walks in the door after practice is a gift. I find myself taking photos of him for no reason. At his last home game I took over 400 photos because I knew I would never see him play water polo again.
But there he is, six feet two, seventeen, going off to become who he will be, with his hopes and his dreams and his eagerness to serve, leaving us here to walk by his room and wait for his phone calls.
Letting go is hard, but necessary. It is something that causes me to hold my hand over my heart, as if shielding it from the pain.
I think I will have to get another dog.
2 comments:
Oh. The ache. I have many years yet to reach that stage and yet through the grief of losing my unborn son this year, I feel keenly connected to your moment. Holding my hand to my heart with you.
Thank you for contributing to #reverb10, Kathryn.
This line really resonated with me: "I find myself taking photos of him for no reason."
In this post, in taking photos for "no reason," and I'm sure in so many ways, you're capturing and those memories.
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