“I’m glad your hair is growing back, Mom”, my oldest son says to me as he rubs my head saying good-night. Though they are getting older, I still tuck them in, but not in the same way I used to when they were little. They have their own rooms now. A natural transition much needed as they get older. They have shared a room for seven years, yet it feels so natural now that they are apart, that it seems as though they have been this way for a much longer time. They are happy and comfortable, feeling more mature with the added independence of their own space and privacy. This is the only part of life that is not in slow motion for me now; watching my boys grow up. I’m afraid to blink that I may miss something. Another inch, another accomplishment, another lesson learned. They are passing through the wormhole of time at lightning speed. Everyone warns you that “they grow up fast”. But I never imagined it would really feel like this. I want to keep up with them and answer their questions, play with them, make memories with them, love them. I want more time. I do not want to hold them “in place”, but rather I enjoy seeing them change and grow. In each moment, they are becoming the men they are meant to become one day. Each accomplishment, every scar, all the failures and mistakes, bad days and good ones shape and mold.
Perhaps this illness of mine has interrupted our time together, but it has given us perspective and deeper insight. Instead of letting it ruin the party, we have used it to build strength and integrity. I just don’t want to miss out on the fun of their childhood. I want them to remember that Mom could play, cuddle, talk honestly. Life is here and now and I want to enjoy every moment with my children. Moments have been spoiled and interrupted.
A sleeping dragon woke from its cave and came to terrorize my life. I refuse to run in fear though. I will not run and hide. I face the dragon and look at the power it has to take my life. If I look into its dark yellow eyes long enough, courage comes until I am no longer afraid. It is not a beautiful dragon. It is one of those ugly, terrifying dark creatures that skulks quietly in the darkness. It is that horrible evil presence felt when walking in the absence of light. Felt, but unseen. It knocks me down with its sweeping tail at times, but I get right back up. Its tail comes from behind where no one sees or expects. Unable to anticipate its hidden moves, it is difficult to rest. The dragon won’t go away, but now I find something inside of myself to shout at it. A courage stirs deep within my soul. Is this what they call having a will to live? I face my fear knowing each moment I have is precious time. My fear has given me power, like shouting at a wild animal about to attack, hoping to intimidate into submission.