Are you that man? For my first born son, Adam

photo: Adam's wedding day ~ the dance

Adam,

Are you that man?

Are you my son? The one who bled out from my womb.  Came late.  Hid in your room. Waited your turn.  Yearned but did not ask.  Are you my past?  Are you my present? Are you the boy who rose from burnt ashes?  Do you still hurt?  Are you the boy with golden locks?  The babe I rocked. Tucked under my heart. Slept soundly after you suckled ~ left me raw, drawn.  Came home from school with bruises on? Swollen knuckles. The boy who stood in front of stunted ones, those smaller.  Took blows.  Ran through red fields home. Forests.  Bled. Broken nose ~ wounding your mother to the bone.  Are you the boy who spoke with one voice?  The one only I understood.  You did good.  Made the choice to overcome.  Are you my son?  Have you grown?  Have you known love like no other ~ kiss fondly your wife, your lover, and your children ~ four now, brushing on, rushing around your feet?  Big feet grounded in white shoes.  Feet planted deep.  Feet that choose to walk beside.  Not run from. Are you my son?  Do you take the seat at the head of your table?  Are you able to forgive?  Do you cry?  Walk in light with your Lord?  Do you live fully? Pray?  Not only on Sunday, but Monday and so on?  Are you my son? Do you feel me breathe within your soul ~ wear your heart on my sleeve? When I leave I will take you with me.  I will show you off to Angels. I will say ~ This is my Son!  He came from God.  And me!  Look at this Babe!  My Boy! My Son!  Someday we will be together ~ as one.  Again.  My Babe. That Man.  My Son.

Mom
(Thank you, Adam ~ and your beautiful family, for spending the day with me on Mother's day)