Watching from the sidelines
November 4th 2007 01:19
I haven't seen him since he was a baby. He was only a few months old then, with little blond curls. Like an angel, yes.
He was our angel.
His eyes were deep sea blue. He would stare at you for hours, seemingly absorbing every detail there was about you. Of course infants don't really see see see just yet when they're that young but still I believe that he saw me, that he remembers me.
I hope he does.
In my hands is his baby blanket, the very first one he was swaddled in. It is torn with too many embraces and stained with tears. The baby scent has long gone.
He turns ten today. A special day for him, and for me. The blanket is scrunched up in my hands as I stand amidst the crowd, waiting.
I see him now. He is running down the school steps, his backpack bouncing against his little frame. His hair is short and curly, and much blonder than it was when he was first in my arms.
"Mommy!" He giggled.
I smile.
I watch him fly into the arms of a woman in blue at the bottom of the steps. He giggles some more and buries his face in her neck. A tall man joins them and gives them both a sweet embrace. I see him greet the little boy a happy birthday. They give each other warm kisses and make their way towards a car.
As they drive away, I clench the blanket tighter in my hands.
Next year, on this same day, he will turn eleven.
*****
Who is the narrator of this story? What is the narrator's relation to the little boy? What's your story?
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