My heart stood still until I heard that first cry, an utterance of life.
From that day forward I listened for every gurgle, whimper, and coo.
I reveled in every attempt at communication.
Then came da, ma, ball, and dog.
Then an adamant NO.
You progressed to mine.
Nothing thrilled my heart and ears more than when the words I love you, Mommy spouted from your sweet lips.
Suddenly I can do it by myself became your mantra.
Along came your brother, and you asked, Can we put him back in your tummy? When I replied he was here to stay, you asked Can we ‘fro’ him in the ‘crash’ can? When I said we must love him and take care of him, you shrugged your tiny shoulders and accepted it as a way of life. You sang to him and teased him and taught him all you knew.
In no time, there were two of you charging through the house.
The norm became I’m telling on you, It wasn‘t me, He hit me, or I win. You lose. Nanananana! Chatter and laugher echoed through our house.
The questions never ended. You both wanted to know why and how and when. I was constantly asked where one item or another was.
You shared your secrets, your dreams, and your frustrations.
My name changed from Mommy to Mom.
Then you became teenagers. Periods of silence ensued.
The I love yous were less often, or at least not in public.
Conversations became leave me alone, I need a ride, and I need some money.
Can I borrow your car? was even once replaced with Mom, I’m sorry I wrecked your car. What’s for dinner, Mom? was the most frequently asked question by both of you. If you weren’t at home to ask in person, you called to find out.
You trust me enough to share your plans and your heartaches and to tell me to butt out when I am being too nosy.
You thank me for the things I do for you and remind me not to worry.
You’ve grown into men of few words, but you don’t hesitate to speak the most important ones I love you, Mom, and now you even say them in front of others.
Sprite’s Keeper Spin is Language