29 April 2011

Note: The “you” in this post is Noah.

This week, you finally said the words I’ve been waiting to hear: “I love you.”

Those three words — words I’ve heard before from men who I’ve dated, including your father — are often words a woman wants to hear. But this time was so different, so sweet, so much better.

You are my son. To hear you SAY that you love me makes the word make sense now. Love: to always be there for someone — no matter what. Unconditional. Unconditionally.

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Flashback to 1993. I am 16. A boy tells me he loves me. I don’t know what to say. I love him, I think — but I don’t have the courage to say the words. Words matter too much to mess them up.

Flashback to 2005. I am 29. I tell your father I love him. He doesn’t know what to say. He loves me, he thinks — but he don’t have the courage to say the words. Words matter too much to mess them up.

Flashback to 2009. I am 33. You are born. They place you in my arms. I tell you I love you. I know it. I feel it. You are my son. I hold you and hold you and hold you.

Rewind: April 25, 2011. I’m reading you a story, tucking you into bed. I say, “I love you, Noah.” You say, “I love you” back. Your “love” sounds like “of” but I love it anyway.

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