A Profound Sense Of Honor

The first time I held my son, I felt a profound sense of honor. I was terrified, of course, and starving, as I hadn’t eaten in 30 hours. I marveled at his tiny face, and knew that zero years old was my favorite age. Nothing could ever compare to this moment, right? Except, well, moments have a way of reminding us of their preciousness each day, each year.

When we’re least expecting time to say “remember this,” we remember. We think “When I’m old, I want to remember my now little boy.”

The first time he smiled-smiled, when I was sure he wasn’t just gassy or something was his best age. When his body was smaller than Chief’s head? So much a favorite age.

Until he turned a year old, and sat on my lap while we opened birthday presents and then got cake all over his face. 

When he was three, and called airplanes “ninees.” His joy was contagious and the world became new to me, too. His little lunch tote filled with ninees, trucks, and rocks that he carried everywhere. The bottom was worn threadbare from dragging along the earth. I kept that scuffed up, almost broken-to-leaking-point bag for years, and only got rid of it when we moved to Colorado. I took a photo first, but I don’t need it. I can remember everything about it. When I think about it, I see us at playgrounds and on car trips, and think about when he still napped, his bag next to him in his crib.

When he graduated preschool, and wore a little visor. So grown up, walking across the stage next to his teacher. That was my favorite age.

His first day of kindergarten, when I cried just as hard as the first day of preschool. A mainstream classroom, and a new school. Thinking about him going on a buddy bathroom break, and having lunch. An elementary student! Oh, that was my favorite age. When I realized he’d been playing alone for an hour in his room. I checked on him, and saw that he’d created a tiny world of Lego warriors. To witness his imagination growing gave me a profound sense of honor. 

The day he got off the bus and asked “Where’s my dog?!?!” who’d died years before, and I realized how much he’d taken in but had been unable to say. 

Each age we’ve celebrated at the beach with fireworks. His “happy to me” year, and when he asked to sleep alone. Those are my favorite ages. 

This week, he’s 10 (“and a month or two, Mom”) years old. We stood on top of the world to celebrate.

For the first time in a while, he needed me in the middle of the night. He came into our room, and touched me on the hip. “I think I have diarrhea, mom. Is it ok to go? It’s dark outside.”

“Of course it is,” I replied. He went to the bathroom, and I took his dog outside because she was up too, and probably had to pee. She didn’t want to come in at first, and I waited. I heard his “MOM??” and went, telling him Nugget was outside, and we’d go back to bed. Asked what he needs now. “I’m sorry for turning on the light,” he said, because in all of the middle-of-the-night potty trips, we usually keep the lights low.

“It’s fine, baby,” I said, and meant it.

I went downstairs, let his dog back in.

Went upstairs again, and got Tucker comfortable. He got back in bed, asked me to stay. I got in bed with him like I have for years, but not in a long time, his leg wrapped around mine.

He had a hard time getting back to sleep. Asked me to tickle his neck, and then, his head. I cannot name how often this has happened over the years, but this time felt special somehow. Maybe, it’s because I know it’s likely one of my last nights holding him.

Of him wanting me near him. Of me spooning him being appropriate, and all that. 

At the point when I’d usually say it was time for me to go, and have him be okay with that, I hesitated. Inhaled his scent. Rested my arm. 

That’s when the most amazing thing happened. I mean, nothing actually happened, except it did. 

I felt a profound sense of honor. 

Rather than being worried about missing sleep, I felt utter joy. I felt this warm feeling, and found myself smiling in the dark. “What are you feeling?” I thought.
“Honor.” 

I felt honor. It’s hard to describe an otherworldly feeling but it was that. Otherworldly.

So profoundly honored to be in this moment, in this time, in this life. 

It was a reminder of the first time I held him. It was wonder at being close to this human who loves me, needs me. 

Rather than worrying about how many hours of sleep I’d lose, wondering whether I’d fall asleep and should I get my phone, because “Will I hear the alarm if not?” I was there. 

That I’m here and able to provide reassurance to a 10-year-old and didn’t think about it being a school night. I didn’t worry about being an older mom. I was there, and only there.

Rather than being annoyed, and wanting to go to my own bed, which I also wanted, I felt warmth and peace, and when I tried to name it, my body said “Honor.” I felt so honored to be this boy’s mom. Not that I don’t always feel honored to be his mom, but this was surreal. It was as if God or the Universe or whatever stardust we’re made of was reminding me that this is happy.

And I felt happy. I felt free, and light, and completely fulfilled. I can’t remember the last time I felt that complete. 

And I know that now is my favorite age. 

I think about future Tuckers and know that each age he is will be my favorite, even as I mourn the younger years. I’ll forever be sad that I can no longer carry him on my hip, but also? One day, it’ll be the year 2059, and I’ll be telling his children stories about their dad, back when airplanes were ninees. 

With that, I realize something else. While I am embarrassed often by being an “older mom” to a boy his age, I also need to make each of my ages my favorite, because they’re when I experienced each of these moments.

So, along with every age Tucker is being my favorite, I’m going to try to remind myself that each age I am, I feel what I feel, and experience what I experience, and that I’m doing it at the age I am.

Which means, for him, and for me, and for all of us, every age is a favorite age. Each one holds a profound sense of honor.

Wishing you the peace to find honor in unexpected moments. 

XO
Kristi 
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This has been a Finish the Sentence Friday post. Today’s prompt is “My favorite age” (yourself or another person’s, like a child).