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There’s a lot I don’t remember. I wish I could remember everything, and bring it back as a well-archived archive. There are so many things I can’t remember. But there are many things I do. I remember how your soft newborn hair felt on my lips when I kissed your little head. I remember your first night at home… you slept in the bassinet next to the bed, and when you argued, I put my hand on your chest and you stopped crying. I was surprised that this little creature responded to my touch – all you need is to know that you are not alone. You were not, and you, never will be. That I promise you.
As a beginner, you are unfortunately the one who faced many mistakes. I regret it and I remember many days I would go back and rewrite it if I could. But in all, you have been a light – a light that shines and makes everyone aware. You are special.
You may not believe it, but I remember your first day in elementary school. I was so scared, and so were you! I had your little sister to take care of, and it was so confusing to miss her, but when it was time to pick her up, I was so happy to see the smile on your face! I was glad to know that you would be fine without me, for a few hours. And I was happy to have you in my arms. Kindergarten was a whole other story. You cried every day for months. And so did I. I spent more time than you’ll ever know, sitting in the parking lot of your school crying, just wanting to be next to my sweet boy. I knew you would be fine – and in the end, you were. But the separation was painful and I wished to find you every day.
Soon, you went to school in a storm. You have always been incredibly bright, and an exceptional student. You are kind, funny, and lovable. You bloomed. Even when things got bad between me and your father, you held on tight. You didn’t move. You kept your head above water even though I was confused. Divorce was hard for all of us, but maybe even harder for you. As an adult, you were the one who knew our biggest family. You were old enough to understand that your life as you knew it was ending. You were old enough to know that you were living what you never wanted to be: the child of divorced parents. However, you were persistent. Your concerns were not only about you, but almost always about me. You were a child, but you found yourself taking care of your mother, and I depend on you. Maybe a little too much. But you never complained. Through the global pandemic, real school, and everything that entails, you stayed strong.
When I met your stepfather, you would have been surprised. You would refuse to welcome him into our little family. But you didn’t. You welcomed him with all your heart and quickly bonded with him. Soon he began to see the light in you that I had always admired, and he came to admire you even more.
Watching you grow and succeed has been an incredible privilege. Watching you do well in school, in your relationships, in your favorite sports, in your relationships with your siblings, grandparents, aunts, and uncles, you never cease to amaze me. When I look at you – what a world, I look at my little boy – I am touched by your growth. You are a man, and I am not ready to leave you. I still want to be in the parking lot outside your school. I still want to hold your hand while you go to other things. I’m not ready to give up. So consider this letter, my words on your 18th birthday, to be the hand on your chest that comforted you as a baby. A comforting weight that lets you know you’re not alone. Your mother is here. Always.