I need to write a song for him.

Today I write of my son, of his birth, his childhood, his life to date. We started out very close as I was tuned to his rhythm within me. I remember my first awareness of him as I lay in the bathtub relaxing after a long day of teaching. burlp, blip, burlp. What was that? "Ron," I frantically called to hubby and as he burst into the bathroom I told him. "I felt the baby! I felt it move!"

Fast forward to his birth night when I woke with a pain around 1:30 a.m. Soon another one. Wake Ron. Call doctor. Get to hospital. Kevin was delivered at 4:21 a.m. into the arms of his mother already hopelessly in love with him. As my bed was wheeled down the hall, New Dad came out of the waiting room to see his son. I watched our baby look right up at the excited and overwhelmed face of his daddy, as though he already knew there would be a special bond between them. Yes, I know, babies can't see at that age, but somehow Kevin sensed his link to his father, I am sure.

We both remember waking up in the mornings listening to his singing. He turned one that year when we both taught on the north shore of Lake Superior. Kevin was a happy child, singing us awake in the mornings, running joyfully to greet us when we came home at the end of the day, bouncing in his father's arms as they danced around the living room to music on the stereo. And when dad would stop, Kevin's little legs would kick against him speaking the words he couldn't yet say. He wanted more. Keep going, daddy. And off they would go again. He had a special trick he delighted in showing us. Standing with his back to the couch, he would lean over backwards till his back was on the couch. And he would laugh, so proud of himself for doing his favorite trick. And of course we laughed with him and clapped our delight in his accomplishment.

We've spent his whole life doing that but it hasn't been hard. He's been a great kid, not perfect, but through all his tricks and slips along the way, he never lost his personality. I remember telling him a few times, "I don't like you just now but I love you still." Somehow our parenting worked and we raised a caring, sensitive, joyful son who deeply feels for people, who easily gives to others, and who is sure of who he is. He is a pleasure to be around.

We are still close. I can tell him my heart and he holds it with gentle hands. He helps me be a better person when I see his generosity. I now stand at the sidelines like I did watching him play T-ball, cheering him on, watching him go. He talks to me about life and things that are important to both of us. I can use him as a sounding board because he will always tell me the truth. We have drawn a line beyond which we will not go as far as his marriage because that is how it should be. He now has another to confide in and to hold his heart and that is wonderful. I am so glad he has found what I have had all these years--a loving partner. But I am so thankful he still has a place for me. I need to write a song for him.