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Bus Stop Mornings

Sunday, May 31, 2009


I won’t miss getting up at 5:30 every weekday morning, that’s for sure. But I will miss these moist warm mornings when I get to walk the kids out to the bus, which stops by our mailbox.

I will miss watching Liam run like anything, from an imaginary truck, to an imaginary reward.



I will miss watching him read Harry Potter, lost in another world, as meadowlarks and bluebirds sing all around him.
He won't miss the meadowlarks and bluebirds until he's been away a long, long time. They are the soundtrack of his life, and he doesn't know what it's like not to hear them. He doesn't yet know what it is to live with car alarms and sirens for music. But someday he will. That day needs to wait awhile. Neither of us are ready.

I hang on to these days.


And am thankful for Chet, who stays with me when Liam isn't here.

That's why I wanted a boy dog.

21 comments:

Sweet. He will grow up so make plenty of memories. And then, he will multiply and come back. That's even sweeter.

Luv that final shot! it says many things...

I've discovered that despite growing up, older and away, they always need Mom..that keeps me forever young.

*teary smile*
I'm right there with you.

Huge lump in my throat. That precious boy of yours. Have we started discussing an arranged marriage yet? (touching off firestorm amongst your other friends with daughters)

Fiona's reading Harry Potter too.

Liam could have a little harem if arranged marriages worked. There's a line, Wendi, but I'll put your application in the hopper. Thanks, everyone.
J.

Awww. I'm all choked up - knowing the feeling of wanting to "keep" this place and time. He's a wonderful boy who will always love you, the meadowlarks and bluebirds. He'll paint them for you one day.

Isabelle has dibs on him, Julie!

I was all warm smiles until the last shot and the last sentence. You had me at boy dog. Warm tear, lumpy throat. Some things in our lives are so unbelievably perfect - it defies logic and takes the breath away. Thanks for sharing two of those.

Crying here. You are right to hang onto every single second. You just can't believe it when they're grown up and gone. I'm still shaking my head and wondering how it went so incredibly fast. Just yesterday Sean was Liam's age, and now he'll be 23 in a couple of weeks. And Eric will soon be 20, not even a teenager anymore.

And I remember them as little, little sweet boys, Anne, and can't believe it either. In a way they're frozen in time for me, the little keen thin-faced boy and the round-faced blonde one who was so afraid to go to sleep in the dark without Sean there. 23 and 20, it can't be.
And Phoebe will be taller than I am by the time school starts again.

Ohhh...another heart melter. Sigh...

wv: blest

Oh and if you ARE arranging marriages, um, Vivi and Liam would be perfect. ;-)

Sweet memories, lump in the throat and tears. My own little boy is now 30. And I need another tissue.

Thank goodness for memories.

I love how you really see him. That's a gift of love every son should have.

OH, Julie--I had one of those wonderful boys with a rich imaginary life. And he was an inveterate reader too. But, he never did begin to hear the outside world noises--he is still somewhat dreamy and inward turned even at age 37.
And I still miss the little boy part of him, while enjoying immensely the adult he has become.

Pure sweetness. If I were yours, I don't suppose I'd ever want to leave the nest. :c) Sam is staying here by himself for the first time this summer. Lots of milestones...

Oh man...you sure know how to bring teardrops! Very sweet!

And the hardest thing is letting go, even when every fiber in your being wants to hold on. I still go through it with my adult daughter.

I think your children are very blessed. (So is that boy-dog.)

Julie,
Your son will likely look back one day and be extremely grateful for your love and time spent together. I have a blog: http://www.snakeadventures.blogspot.com/ and would like to exchange blog links with you. Will you let me know what you think?
Thanks,
Robby

Do I smell hotdogs?

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