Boy Child

Boy Child

Today he is a boy child; the boy child that is disappearing before my very eyes and I try furiously to capture him in the snapshots I tuck in the recesses of my mind, the vault of memories that I keep locked for the day that comes when he grows.

His face is unlined, slightly tan and lovely, and he wears youth like a cape upon his shoulders.

His fingernails are bitten to the quick, still just a smattering of the nail polish he wore on his nails, Fourth of July tradition with the older cousins he adores.

His teeth are white and slightly crooked, the space that resembles my own at that age. Soon those teeth will be corrected and the nature of my boy child will melt away.

His t-shirt colored with black sharpie marker so that he resembles a cow, his freedom to be little and participate in a restaurant’s free dinner theme a reminder of his childhood that is vanishing with self-awareness that seeps into our world.

His stuffed animal cow he requested from the same place; some day that boy will have no time for toys and cuddly pretend creatures and I will remember.

His friends that are girls share his life but don’t yet lead his heart and I long to imprint those friendships on his mind so he will remember the type of girl that will bring him joy and share his life some day.

His questions that spill out each day, often as we run errands or float in the pool. Questions about marriage, politics, money, education, and understanding the great big world.

His trust in me, his mama, the woman that one day will no longer be first and he will move away from my words and my touch.

My son will grow up and I will remember and marvel at the boy child he once was and the man he has become though today he is my boy child.

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