Running Toward Six

I stand there on the sidewalk just outside our car. School is over and I’m waiting for you.

I see you just around the corner. You catch sight of me and start running.

I just stand there, watching you…waiting for you.

In my eyes, you are but one. You have a ready and contagious smile. Not yet walking but moving for sure. Your first word was car. Then, we were surprised, now? It all makes sense.

A couple more steps and you’re two. Running as you are now. Talking and constantly on the go. Your love of cars, trains, and trucks has really taken hold. Your big, brown eyes are accentuated by long dark lashes. Beautiful.

More seconds pass and you are three. Our boy who loves chocolate milk. Loves to dig. Loves to run. You are a Big Brother now. A hardship for you at first but you soon settled in to your new role and, oh how Little Sister loves you.

Your legs are getting longer now. Look how fast they move now that you’re four. Your dark, wavy hair flaps around as you run toward me. You grow with each step. Four years old and full of questions about the world.

Closer now, I see your five year old self, running toward me with a huge smile on your face. You are in kindergarten. I can see the holes in the knees of your pants. Something is different though and my heart catches. You are so independent.

In those few short seconds before you reach me there on that sidewalk waiting for you, I wonder whether you’ll jump in my arms like you usually do, or if you’ll casually walk past me into our car.

I can see on your face, you are considering the options yourself. You seem conflicted.

I will myself to keep my arms at my side and let you make the choice. I just smile.

You reach me, my boy, just days away from being six, and all I want to do is scoop you up in my arms and hold on tight.

I wait. Our eyes meet and we both smile.

My arms open and you fly into them. I’ve grown strong and steady since your baby days; I know how to handle these flying leaps of hugs.

How I want to freeze time.

You’re off again, too quickly for me, and you toss your backpack into the car and buckle yourself in.

Holding back my tears, I settle in the driver’s seat and glance in my rear view mirror.

I’m shocked to see you there, not a baby, but a boy with a toothy grin. A boy who just learned how to ride a bike without training wheels. A boy who has recently started to read. A boy who is now demanding some chocolate milk.

You will be six years old tomorrow.

It seems you’ve been running toward six since the day you took your first steps.

Happy Birthday my dear, sweet, rambunctious boy.

My arms will always be open for you.