I and Love and You

I have four children. One of them is not like the others. Three of them have my blueprint written on their characters, their bodies. My blood flows through their veins. For one, it does not. For the three, there are parts of me in them that make me laugh, make me celebrate, and make me cringe. For the one, there is not. 

My relationship with the one began because of the choice of two adults, two adults eager to begin a life together. He was a little boy, barely 5, and was just along for the ride. The belief was that Our love would bind together our new little family. We hoped and prayed that eventually, that love would be felt naturally between and among all members of our family. 

I used the words I and Love and You with the one from the very beginning. At that time it was an exercise in hope. I hoped that I would one day feel for him the same way that I felt for those who were a part of me. That hope was almost immediately realized. It is easy to love someone when you are constantly serving them. When I dropped him off for the first day of 1st grade, I felt the lump rise in my throat at the thought of missing him. I stood among hundreds of parents during a school fun run, searching the little faces for the one that belonged to me. He ran past my place in the crowd with a red face and heavy breath, looking for the life of him like he was being tortured and wanted to quit. But he didn't, and my heart almost exploded with pride as the tears threatened to spill over.

I feel those words, I and Love and You, and so I say them often.  I have said them multiple times a day for 4 years. He almost always says them back, usually absentmindedly or as an afterthought, playing every bit the part of a 9 year old boy. But he has NEVER said them first. Not once. I have come to terms with this, and while I can feel it nagging me from the recesses of my mind, I understand that he never asked to be yoked to me. He is entitled to his own feelings and his own timing.

I drove the carpool to school this morning just as I always do. And just like always, I unconsciously listen to the random chatter floating up from the back of the van. I think the topic was Halloween costumes today. Just like always, I navigated the traffic jam outside the school and pulled up to the curb, hitting the automatic door button as I threw the van into park. Just like always, the kids poured out of the van and on to the sidewalk. But today, wasn't JUST like always, because I was distracted. I usually call out to them "Be kind! Be smart! Be brave! I love you!"  But today, I didn't, and as I shifted the van back into drive and prepared to pull away, I heard "Hey Mom.... I love you". I looked back, but he was already gone. Time slowed to a standstill, and I sat there for awhile as all the other minivans and SUVs pulled around me, because today......

HE SAID IT FIRST