He really does. Watching him walk from the car to the bus every morning fills my heart with joy. I watch his back as he quickly moves across the yard of the corner house (with one of the best lawns in the ‘hood) toward the waiting yellow bus. He goes fast because I suspect he’s just a bit nervous the driver won’t wait for him. His quick, choppy gait encourages his full backpack to hop up and down behind him, rather like a cork bobbing on water.
His hair bounces too. His curls now settle around his shoulders in corkscrews. I remember when he hated his curly hair. He asked if we could straighten it with chemicals, or at least with my flat iron. We tried once…. it took forever and looked terrible. Now he loves his long strands, they are his Samson-esque pride and joy, his identifying marker. He’s come home from school many a day and proudly told us about all the girls who want to touch his hair.
So far, he is thriving in middle school, and we are a bit shocked. Aren’t these supposed to be the years where it all falls apart, when you lose your way and face fears of inadequacy and doubt? Perhaps that is to come… we are just a few weeks into this new world… but he is different… in a good way! Nearly overnight, my boy went from baths at night to showers in the morning. He now packs his own lunch. He’s reading books like a starving man would gobble down a cheese sandwich. I should say a porterhouse steak, because he’s not doing “junk food”… he’s reading quality stuff. On his own he chose to read The 3 Muskateers, The Art of War, and The Count of Monte Cristo. He’s now reading Gulliver’s Travels. He stood at Barnes and Noble’s classic section and inhaled volumes. The speed he’s ingesting these works is astonishing.
These days are moving so fast… I watch him intently, trying to burn the image and the moment into my heart forever, so it will be there to recall when he is off and on his own.
Just you wait my bouncy baby boy… take your time… don’t go too fast.
