Each day you’re unfolding before my eyes and though I earnestly try to take note, I can’t keep up with your burgeoning soul.

Each day you surprise me in some fashion, a kind word to your nearest brother or an offer to help the mother whose hands are full of siblings.

Each day your stories give me glimpses into a world of which I am becoming an outlier.

Each day you say good morning even though your mouth has yet to smile.

Each day your hair deepens in color, once gold of the sun and now, it’s quite dark.

Each day you promise me that you have no homework and yet, every morning you work on it over your bowl of cereal.

Each day you cross examine me about plans, appointments, soccer games, tennis practice, routine bits of maintenance and I have grown to appreciate the much needed assistance.

Each day you and your siblings wrestle and kick and shove and roll on the floor, the not fluid motion interspersed with cries for help and rapturous giggles.

Each day is one closer to the sum of your growing up and I am torn with stifling the little boy era and clenching my fists as he falls from the nest and I await the flight.