Baylee had a dental cleaning yesterday, so I waited in the room with bland, always gray chairs and a soap opera on the TV (I didn’t know they still existed) for him to come out.
I immersed myself in my phone, reading the news, when I heard a man say, “Mom.”
I kept my eyes on my phone, reading about the major traffic jam in Virginia and the newest COVID news.
I kept reading.
I finally looked up and saw Baylee, the youngest who is fifteen, staring at me smirking.
“Oh!” I said. I had no idea it was him who had been trying to get my attention.
I remember the day Tyler called me Mom with a man voice. It was around fifteen years ago, yet each time one of my son’s voices changes, it still rattles me, and Baylee being the youngest reminds me they are not little boys anymore. Three of them hold Selective Service cards, and the last only has a couple years before he applies for his. They’re adults!
Although I want to fight their childhood’s dissipation, my choice is to embrace their growth and to let them fly with their fully feathered wings and booming baritone voices. I mean, what else can I do?