eighteen years and five months ago, I brought you home from the hospital. you were wearing a pooh hat, pooh socks, and swaddled in a pooh blanket. sweet cheeks, beautiful blue eyes.... and screamed day and night. my poor little pooh bear. when you got glasses, you were the most precocious little thing with your "probally" and "amosht" and "I don't really think so." your british accent was adorable, and we loved you anyway when you dropped it upon our return to the states. smart. smart. smart. we couldn't find teachers to teach you as fast as you picked things up. you sang your heart out when you thought no one was around and your art has been blossoming in the pages of your sketchbooks. you graduated at 16 after a truly awful senior year, giving the finger to those who thought you wouldn't make it, and making us so proud to watch you. you landed your first job and quickly made friends, as I knew you would. sweet, smart, funny, adorable little bear of mine.
tonight, you are spreading your wings. I am not gonna lie: I miss you already. you still have your key. you had better not knock on my front door because you live here now and always. don't be a stranger. call your mother. stop by for dinner. and remember you have a piece of my heart.
I love you, Little Bear. happy first moving day.
No comments:
Post a Comment