B is a teenager now. He is so grown up in his looks and actions:
- His face is so mature and his body has new hair in so many places.
- He takes a lot of care in choosing his clothes (he only wants shirts that are narrower at the bottom than at the shoulders to show how “cut” he is (his words, not mine).
- Girls have crushes on him and he has crushes on girls.
- He runs ahead and holds a door for a women with a stroller.
- He takes packages and groceries out of my hands, “I got these, Ma.”
- He puts himself to bed. Gone are the days of, “Will you just stay with me until I fall asleep? Pleeease?”
And just when I think the boy is gone forever and I start to grieve, Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran comes on the radio and B totally gets grossed out by the line, “…will your mouth still remember the taste of my love…”, and I smile. There he is. That’s my little boy. While I embrace the man he’s becoming with one arm, I’m still holding the hand of the boy he has not yet left behind.