My baby. My last baby. Benjamin, "the last boy"... Technically, I guess that means I could still have a girl, right? I might actually be insane and I would hope that your grandmother would check me into a home, if I seriously talk about having another child. You ARE my baby and I think you know it.
As I was looking back through your pictures this week, I realized this was the picture I was looking for. This is my memory of our first two years together. Not to say that there haven't been many other important memories, but this one, the one of you snuggled up on my chest, is what I choose to remember above all other memories. This small little nook between my neck and breast was made just for my babies. It's close to everything comforting in their world and it gives me the most scenic outlook of the beautiful life I live. By the time you found this special spot, it had been broken in and much loved by your bother and sister like a special blankie or family heirloom passed down from one child to the next. This must have made it all the more special, because you, my baby, have lived here longer than your siblings.
In the heat of the day, your little feet hardly touch the ground as you blow from one room to another like the force of nature that you are, but in the waking hours of the morning and in the calm tides of the evening your settle back into you nest for a little bit of home. I'm trying to hold on to every bit of it, because I know looming around a season or two is the day that you'll be too big for me to carry. And then, like Silverstein's tree, I'll have to bend my branches and settle for a cuddle on the sofa.
Happy birthday my sweet Benjamin. I can't believe that you are two today and there's nothing I can do about it. I have enjoyed every exhausting second of your life and I would not wish for it any other way.
I love you,
Mom
June 16, 2011
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