A beautiful (short) piece about growing up by my old friend Amanda Symmes. Take a minute and read this. Many of us have younger kids, but if we aren’t here already, we will be. Probably sooner than we think.
We comment on the small stature of sixth-graders
Up ahead and marvel that your sister will soon replace
Those squirts in just a few mere months
And as we groan together at the thought of your sister
And you reunited in school next year
The most brilliant sun rises up from behind the backboard
Of the basketball court ready to slam dunk itself
Onto the day.
As my eyes squint back its beauty
My chest explodes: you too are rising up these days
So fast and so strong,
You are no longer my baby,
And you are not yet a man.
You exit my car with your sleepy eyes hiding out not
Yet ready to join the freckles on your face in being awake
And your backpack bumps along behind you, a burden
Against your wake as you speed walk toward your school
And I see you for just a flash at your high school graduation
And I cry, quick and hard for just only a moment
For it is in this flash that I see;
I see who you will be, I’ve noticed it visible
Right there on you these days
Like a sketch just needing to be traced over
This duality of both baby and man and the
Magic in the middle wedges itself into
And I decide as the tears subside, that yes
I can hold it all.
I will hold all of that and much more for you.
For you, are my first born,
Yet you are
My Middle Path.