Tuesday, October 10, 2017

My Last Little.

 I asked for the picture. 

He's four. Now his legs dangle below my knees when I pick him up. He builds teeny, tiny Lego cars and asks to read books about spiders and ants and machines that crush concrete. It's a process I recognize; it's a maturing I can see slowly unfolding in front of me. I'm bursting with pride to watch the little boy he's growing into, but my heart is tearing out because it's happening to my baby. My last little. My final act. When his head began to droop during our family devotional tonight, my heart warmed. I felt him shudder and exhale that one last wakeful breath as he relaxed into sleep onto me. I'd forgotten how long it had been since I felt that release. And I don't know when I'll see it again. 

So I asked for the picture.