I hugged my teenage son goodbye this morning, as he left for work with his father. As I held his tall, lean person in my arms, I was suddenly ashamed to realize how long it had been since I last truly hugged my son.
We stood for several seconds together, and I mumbled "my baby boy..." half expecting him to pull away, or to moan in that teenager-y way. He didn't. I swear, I think he hugged me tighter.
I think I stopped hugging him at the point that he stopped climbing into my lap and asking for it. What a loss.
He's been the size of an adult since he was twelve. Did I subconsciously decide that he was too big for me to hug? That he didn't want me to hug him? He seemed so happy this morning, to bend down to my level, so I could wrap him in my arms.
This is a short-lived mistake. I do not intend to make it again, and until he tells me he doesn't want to be hugged anymore, I will continue to fold him in my arms, regardless of how he towers over me.
I miss my sweet, blond-haired, cuddly baby boy. But he has been replaced with someone even greater, and I will not miss out on those precious opportunities any longer.
No comments:
Post a Comment