Thursday, January 12, 2012

To My Grown Up Son

I have been holding on to this sweet poem I found over at Magical Childhood for a while.  Lately, I haven't been able to peel Camden off of me.  He seems to need more from me than usual.  I'm often feeling guilty after his bedtime when I start to miss him.  Today, in the middle of rehabilitating our poor house from the holidays, I uncovered these words.  It's amazing what comes across your path at just the right time.            

                To My Grown Up Son 

                      My hands were busy through the day
                          I didn’t have much time to play
                          The little games you asked me to.
                          I didn’t have much time for you.

                          I’d wash your clothes, I’d sew and cook,
                          But when you’d bring your picture book
                          And ask me, please, to share your fun,
                          I’d say, ‘A little later, son.’

                          I’d tuck you in all safe at night,
                          And hear your prayers, turn out the light,
                          Then tiptoe softly to the door.
                          I wish I’d stayed a minute more.

                          For life is short, and years rush past,
                          A little boy grows up so fast.
                          No longer is he at your side.
                          His precious secrets to confide.

                          The picture books are put away,
                          There are no children’s games to play,
                          No good night kiss, no prayers to hear.
                          That all belongs to yesteryear.

                          My hands once busy, now lie still
                          The days are long and hard to fill.
                          I wish I might go back and do
                          The little things you asked me to.
                                                   - by Alice E. Chase


Jeanne P said...

It's as if you were a little fly on my wall today and personally posted this poem for me! My oldest, Ryan, is 18 and in college. I also have a 15 yr old daughter, a 5 yr old son and a 4 yr old son. Yes, I am exhausted by 8PM and if it were ever illegal to drink coffee I'd have to move to Canada. Ryan was up last night (this morning) until 4AM and slept until 4PM. During his waking hours he was grumpy. When he woke up today, he headed back to school. He ate a sandwich that I made for him, kissed his brothers good bye and hugged me so tight I thought the snap on my jeans was going to poke his eye out. I watched him drive away back to Rutgers University today. All those times this winter break of his that he rolled his eyes at me, or told me to stop talking, (I wished I never taught him to speak) washed away in that moment. I remembered him as a 4 year old explaining the difference between a dump truck, front end loader and tow truck with such great enthusiasm. I probably rolled my eyes and did the "uh-huhs", and wished he would stop talking. SIGH, CRY, SNIFF. All you Mommies out there, IT GOES BY SOOO DARN FAST. It's 8:47PM on the East Coast, and for all of Ryan's sarcasm (his new major) I miss him so bad it hurts. I am going now to wallow in my self pity, eat some cookie dough and hug my little guys still at home and say goodnight.

Shandra Lenae said...

@Jeanne P

Jeanne, this comment made me tear up more than the poem itself -so beautifully put. I love the perspective you have given me. Kiss those kids for me, okay.


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