Piece of my Heart
There is one person in my life that really holds a very big part of my heart. As heartless as I may seem to some, it is with this person that I am most vulnerable. This person brings out the very best in me and inspires me to be more than I am today. He motivates authenticity as his very peculiar but endearing personality comes out. I saw raw innocence, clarity in the simplest form, and voluminous joy in his soul the very first time I met him in person.
I still remember how his tiny features seemed so big in my mind; it's as if every little detail was magnified somehow despite my poor and unreliable vision. But I still can see in my mind all his little moles and freckles on his chubby arms and legs. The bright red of his eyebrows. I remember the barely visible clear hairs all over his body. His very specific expressions, like how his lips tightened and his eyebrows furrowed deeply when he was uncomfortable. How his face would get puffy red when he pooped. Or the slight, little twitch of the corners of his mouth when he heard our voices. The way his head turned towards us with the hint of a content smile on his perfect little face.
I remember the squeaky little noises he made when he slept as I watched him in sleepless awe. Every breath he took was major for me because in my anxious little mind it was very possible that he could not take the next breath. That was a terrifying feeling. And since I became a mother, life has been particularly terrifying watching this little human grow. How guilty I felt at his first set of shots, allowing some fool nurse tech to hurt my little peanut. But how his little fingers curled up in my hair when I bent to pick him up and nestle him in the crook of my neck where he always seemed to seek my comfort...in that little crook in my neck.
My little Isaac boy. Nine years old and exploring and learning. This brave little boy full of love, full of expectations and endless dreams. Born with a wild but healthy imagination. Adventurous and lazy rolled in one boy with an eternal storage of energy. Loves to make friends and run freely in sun and rain. Clever and aware of his environment more so than he lets on. Plays nicely with others but also loves his alone time where his stories and imagination are unrestricted, unrestrained.
Such a beautiful person sent to such an imperfect and normally selfish person like myself. I have proclaimed and will continue to say this: He was made and molded just for me at a time when I needed purpose and meaning. He has saved me in ways no one else can understand. He changed me and he changed my life forever.
So this mother's day, I pay tribute to the person who honored me with this title in the first place. No matter how tall he gets, I will remember his baby face, his toddler face, his little boy face, and every face he transforms into over the years but mostly I'll remember how he owns that very big part of my heart.
I still remember how his tiny features seemed so big in my mind; it's as if every little detail was magnified somehow despite my poor and unreliable vision. But I still can see in my mind all his little moles and freckles on his chubby arms and legs. The bright red of his eyebrows. I remember the barely visible clear hairs all over his body. His very specific expressions, like how his lips tightened and his eyebrows furrowed deeply when he was uncomfortable. How his face would get puffy red when he pooped. Or the slight, little twitch of the corners of his mouth when he heard our voices. The way his head turned towards us with the hint of a content smile on his perfect little face.
I remember the squeaky little noises he made when he slept as I watched him in sleepless awe. Every breath he took was major for me because in my anxious little mind it was very possible that he could not take the next breath. That was a terrifying feeling. And since I became a mother, life has been particularly terrifying watching this little human grow. How guilty I felt at his first set of shots, allowing some fool nurse tech to hurt my little peanut. But how his little fingers curled up in my hair when I bent to pick him up and nestle him in the crook of my neck where he always seemed to seek my comfort...in that little crook in my neck.
My little Isaac boy. Nine years old and exploring and learning. This brave little boy full of love, full of expectations and endless dreams. Born with a wild but healthy imagination. Adventurous and lazy rolled in one boy with an eternal storage of energy. Loves to make friends and run freely in sun and rain. Clever and aware of his environment more so than he lets on. Plays nicely with others but also loves his alone time where his stories and imagination are unrestricted, unrestrained.
Such a beautiful person sent to such an imperfect and normally selfish person like myself. I have proclaimed and will continue to say this: He was made and molded just for me at a time when I needed purpose and meaning. He has saved me in ways no one else can understand. He changed me and he changed my life forever.
So this mother's day, I pay tribute to the person who honored me with this title in the first place. No matter how tall he gets, I will remember his baby face, his toddler face, his little boy face, and every face he transforms into over the years but mostly I'll remember how he owns that very big part of my heart.
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