Oren turns nine months old this week. How can that be? I am in wonder of it all. Was he not just two lines on a pregnancy test? Was he not just a flutter of my abdomen? Was he not just that crying, colicky little ball of a baby, red faced and fists clenched? Was he not just a hope for a someday, tucked away inside my very deepest dreams and desires?
But he is real, and here and finally. And he is waving and standing and jibberish and he is just so much.
You know how when you're a kid and you have literally no idea where your life will take you? You have all these blanks waiting to be filled in someday and life is full of wonder and great anticipation. When everything is still unknown. Anything is possible.
What will I be when I grow up?
Will I fall in love?
Will I ever get married? Who will it be?
Where will we live?
Will I have kids? I wonder what they'll be, boys? girls?
What will we name them?
What will they look like?
And here I am, 28 years old. And I have all the answers to those questions.
All my blanks are filled in.
Faces and places and names. All here, all accounted for.
Somehow it's someday.
And when Wes asks me when will he get to be a grown up, like mommy and daddy, I just swallow hard and answer "someday". And I kiss his cheeks, and hold him against me and breathe in every single fleeting moment because I know someday will be here far, far too soon.