Ode to Boy

It's my son's 12th birthday tomorrow. Last year I started a tradition to write him a poem for his birthday as a way to celebrate the person he is during this moment in time.

Here's this year's poem:

12

I have almost forgotten that little boy

who I used to hold in my lap.

He’s grown.

Feet and hands as big as mine.

Soon those few inches between us will close

and it will be your eyes

that are looking down into mine.

Promise me that you’ll still hold my hand

the way you do now,

grabbing it without a thought

as we stroll down the sidewalk together.

Promise me that you’ll still ask for goodnight kisses,

that you’ll still hold on to me,

not ready to let me go

when we turn off the light.

Promise me that I’ll be the one

you want to tell your stories to,

that I’ll be the one you complain to,

about friends who smell funny,

or girls who talk too much,

or teachers who just don’t listen.

Promise me that you’ll never be too grown up

to hug me in public

and tell me that you love me.

I won’t mind

If you simply want to whisper it

Into my ear

Just so long as I can hear you say it out loud.

Promise me that you’ll always want

to snuggle next to me as you read,

just to feel the closeness between us.

I don’t want to forget

your teeth, the way they are right now,

still big in your mouth,

untouched by braces.

I don’t want to forget

the way you shoot your basketball,

tossing it gleefully behind your head,

or the way you bowl,

balancing between pure show off

and downtrodden Eeyore.

I don’t want to forget

the way you look right after you’ve told a joke

that has made everyone laugh.

The way a pleased smile forms on your lips

And you look at me

to make sure that I’ve noticed.

Don’t let me forget these things.

Imprint them on my skin.

Engrave them in my bones

So that I always remember

what it feels like

to be the center of your universe.