I Weep With The Willow

Those cheeks. They are rosy and adorned with long lush dark eyelashes. They are plump and soft and smooth and I love them so much. Those eyes, when they contemplate and process with a focus on the inner thoughts....they look so wise, mature and sincere... but alas, they belong to a 4 year old so they are most likely only one of those things.

His lashes, so gorgeous, rest across the top of cheeks like a weeping willows' branches resting softly on the ground.

He will be 5 soon. I have no time machine. This is bad news.

He won't always be so excited to tell me every detail of his day. There will be a time when I will have to purchase heavy duty machinery to pry it out of him, or I will have to refine my skill at covering up the fact that I am dying to know...anything. Or therapy.

I ache for youth to stick around.

I grieve growth and separation.

Ouch.

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

I know he is still little today. And there are things to enjoy and relish in the witness of his every day. But I can still whine if I want to.

Oh, I weep with the willow.

Asher, I love you my little Tater Tot. You rock my world.