In the words of Stephen Hawking;
"Quiet people have the loudest minds"
I've found it comes in handy that I have two hands -
One for each child of mine to hold.
Though I have two eyes
it is usually the case that both eyes are trained on one person,
typically one of the two,
the two my hands hold onto.
Lately she's been at the top of my mind and inside and underneath every thought I have.
It's easy to consider my daughter, when so much has changed in her precious life.
But... as Stephen Hawking said, quite people have loud thoughts...
my quiet son has been thinking loudly.
Today as I took care of his red mare,
I talked to her about him.
I told her sometimes he's so fine that I forget he might not actually be all that fine.
Polite, friendly, thoughtful, open and funny, my son...
I told her that I feel awfully grateful, since he's my only one.
I told her how easy he is to cheer up, even when he's down and blue.
I told her how he never hesitates to tell me, "Mom, I really love you".
I told her that he's smart and quick as a whip in his mind.
I told her that when he grows up, he'll be a great find.
I told her that he loves the stars and sky,
that he'll use a telescope to point out the planets and asks me to never go away, grow old or die.
I tell her that it's highly unlikely I'll be here forever, but because of him, I'll try.
I tell her he named her after the place where one day he plans to live,
and that he's always the first to apologize and never waits to forgive.
I told her that he tells me long stories that often make little sense.
I told her that he wishes we had a yard big enough for her, with a barn, huge trees and a fence.
I told her I trust him with saws and nails, guns, knives and tools.
I told her that he's a great dreamer, but that doesn't make him a fool.
I told her he hasn't got a mean bone inside that small body of his.
I told her that he'll make an incredible father when he grows up, gets married, has kids...
I told her that I take him for granted and what a luxury that is,
to have someone so warm and loving right there near me, to freely just give me a kiss.
I never fail to notice his goodness, but he can feel sadness and pain,
and if I could, I told her, I'd make sure he never felt either again.
He's brave for his size.
He's stronger then I realize,
my fragile, concrete boy...
her playmate, her caretaker, her toy.
I told her she's lucky he loves her and that he loves her so well,
but she must already know this, because that's one thing he never hesitates to show and tell.
I told her I miss him when he's gone, even when it's just for a while.
I talked about his easy, wide, infectious smile.
I told her I don't know what comes next, in the life that together we live.
I told her that there are so many questions, but not many answers to give.
I thanked her for never hurting my kind, sweet, cowboy son.
I told her my great consolation as I age is that his life's just begun.
I told her more about him
How I simply never doubt him.
Since I am his mother and dad,
I have to try to teach my smart lad
that no matter how rich, how successful he becomes
not to forget where he's come from,
remember who loves
who cares
and why
and that those who know him best believe he'll soar to the sky
and nobody, NOBODY on earth knows that better then I.
