Motherhood gets lighter.

I hugged my boy this morning, a Happy Birthday Hug. I need to do that more. He's so tall now my head is at his shoulder. Which is so very odd. I know it will become not odd at some point, but it sure makes one nostalgic for the little, wiggly, heavy, curious sweet little guy I used to know.
And yet, and yet, here is this tall, kind, handsome boy that is full of joy and noise and helpfulness who I am ever so grateful to have in my life.
It is a birthday morning. Aunt Elizabeth started us on a tradition of a "birthday donut" years ago, so this morning I rose in the 5:00 hour to make sure I could share in the tradition. Today was a "birthday cherry danish" but with a candle stuck in the center, it works. I stared at him while he ate, not to make him feel uncomfortable, although I'm sure it did, but to attempt to lay the moment into my fiber. So it is retrievable as more than memory. This exercise is futile. I have tried this effort at every stage from birth to present, but it leaves me. I can no longer feel the heaviness in my arms of holding that baby, or hear the question "why?" in that cotton candy voice. Although, at the time, it seemed too colossal to leave behind. But I cannot stop myself from trying, anyway.
I offered to pull out the old photo albums and look at his baby pictures and sob. He was unenthused with this idea. So I settled for some fluttering about saying nonsensical things such as "How does it feel to be sixteen?", possibly wringing my hands.

And then he was gone. To school, but I how I know it will be more than the end of the driveway and back again hours later, all too soon.

Every year my Motherhood gets lighter.

And, my heart gets heavy.