Seven years

Dear Sully,

Tomorrow morning you’ll be turning seven.

This past year you’ve lost a lot of teeth.

Six to be exact. Two the year prior.

Your teeth have become an odd marker of time for me.

They are a daily reminder of an ever changing landscape of your face.

Of time.

Of its passage and its growth.

Of your passage and growth.

I can still see your toothless smile like it was yesterday.

And your two front teeth budding through – and poking in.

Your full, round, cherub face.

The large gap between your two front teeth.

Then a full mouth of teeth that followed next.

I cried when that first bottom tooth fell out.

It felt as though I had just welcomed this new face –

This face full of teeth that has pressured me into saying farewell to the baby years.

Hello toddler years. Hello preschool years.

And then that stupid tooth. Gone. Nudging me to say farewell yet again.

A sharp reminder that this all is just temporary.

You will change. You will grow.

It’s just how it us.

Your second tooth eventually met the same fate as the first, despite my protests.

Again, the beginning of a new face.

That second tooth a faint whisper and sharp reminder.

I would soon be saying farewell to the face I'd grown to know.

Through preschool.

Through kindergarten.

Because you will change. You will grow.

It’s just how it is.

Another phase.

Another face.

Your third tooth. And fourth. Then the fifth.

The sixth and the seventh.

The eighth.

I winced each time they fell out like flies.

Rapid fire.

Such a funny thing to feel sad about.

I’m learning this new landscape – this gauge, this map of time.

All on your face.

Learning to let go of the baby, the toddler, the preschooler, the kindergartener.

Learning to say hello and embrace the boy –

Who will become a tween. A teenager.

A young man.

Because you will change. You will grow.

It’s just how it is.

It’s a strange and wonderful place to be …

Seeing reflections of the baby you were

And the young man you’re turning into.

All at once.  

It’s in the dimple of your eye when you smile and laugh really hard.

I can almost hear your baby belly laugh if I closed my eyes.

But your teeth –

Those large white markers of time protruding from a sharp jaw line.

Filled in eyebrows.

Thinning out cheeks.

It’s a constant reminder of who you are becoming.

Who you are. Who you will be.

The first words that have given way to jokes at the dinner table.

First steps that have become bikes without training wheels.

Drawings on the wall that have become notes from friends tucked away in backpacks.

Nursery rhymes that have become air guitar rock solos on the couch.

Cuddles that have turned into tender moments between brothers.

And not so tender ones.

Bath times that have become showers.

Mamas that have grown into just moms.

Night time lullabies that have become scarcely requested.

Gummy smiles that have turned into permanent teeth.

Passage and phases.

Changes and growth.

It stinks at times.

It’s exciting at times.

But never be afraid of change or to change.

Never be afraid to grow, in so many ways.

Because you will change.

Because you will grow.

It’s just how it is.

Happy 7^th birthday Sully.

Love you to the moon and stars, always.

Mom