Mom-son -1- Access

There is a moment in every mother’s life that she knows is coming, yet somehow never feels ready for. It doesn’t arrive with a bang or a dramatic announcement. It arrives quietly—usually in the car, or while folding laundry.

My son, who used to hold my hand crossing any parking lot as if letting go meant falling into a black hole, pulled his hand away. Not rudely. Not even consciously, I think. He just… dropped it. He walked three full steps ahead of me toward the library door, his shoulders squared, his chin up. Mom-Son -1-

I won’t pretend it doesn’t sting. It does. There are mornings I miss the little boy who yelled “MOMMY!” from his crib like I was a rockstar entering the arena. There is a moment in every mother’s life