Twelve

Today my son turns twelve.

We recently took a trip to meet my little sister's daughter.  I watched my son hold the baby, so small in his large hands.  He was so gentle.  With someone so small cradled in his arms, he looked closer to a man than a boy .  I was transported back to when I could hold that near-man in my own arms.  He was just about her size once and fit snug in a sling wrapped tight to my chest.  Today he would have an easier time carrying me around than the reverse.

I've watched him mature in the past year with growing admiration for the person that he's becoming.  He was born with an old soul, logical and quiet.  He's not openly affectionate or overly emotional.  He carries it all in his inner heart.  There, he sorts through the confusion and anxiety of growing up.  In that quiet heart, he holds a fierce protection for the people he loves.  He shows love rather than tells it.  He is also a pre-teen boy and therefore my quiet, mature twelve year old can also be ridiculously goofy.  He shares my love of British wit but will also quickly laugh at bathroom humor and appreciates some good sarcasm.  He's a bit James Dean, though at the moment he's a rebel without a cause.  His social rebellion has shown itself in the splash of purple he's kept in his hair this year.  While he questions the norms occasionally, he is also one of the most respectful kids I know.  He is perhaps too cynical for his age, but he will often be the first to remind us at the dinner table that we are very blessed.  He thanks me for making dinner after almost every meal, even when he doesn't like the food, and he apologizes when he needs new shoes because of the expense.  He's hard to raise sometimes because he has a stubborn streak like my father and a quick logical tongue like his father.  But he's also easy to raise because he willingly acknowledges right and wrong with little prompting.  He is intelligent and handsome and healthy, things all parents wish for.  Things I am incredibly grateful for.  But it his spirit that I appreciate the most.  Therein lies his greatest potential to be a wonderful man one day.  A man who has the potential to do good in the world.  A man that I will no doubt be very proud to call my son.  Just as I am proud to call him my son today.

It pricks my mother's heart to see the years pass away.  But it is my greatest joy in life to watch this boy become a man.  My Christopher.  My firstborn.  A child poured straight from my soul into the reality of his own.  The depths of my love for him are immeasurable.