Today is my last day with Charlie. Monday he starts pre-school. I cannot believe that our time together has come to a close so fast.
Last night I cried to sleep. I feel like I’m losing him. But the truth is, I have gained so much. Unconditional love that has been bottomless from the get go. Today the first thing he said to me was, “I love you.”
Not all days start out this bright, but all days have been wonderful. Even the ones where I thought I was going to absolutely rip my hair out. The day we went to the park and he just kept running off. I kept having these heart attacks. J. was the one who often times made and still makes, “run for its’. It is a sort of game with her. Charlie has always been a stick around type of guy.
But that day he ran, and ran, and ran. Technically there was no where for him to run to, except into the bay. So sorry mom and dad, I let your little boy cruise out in front of me expecting him to come back and he just did not have his listening ears on. Oops.
It was the first time I actually felt the desire to shake a child. The “do you know how bad you just scared me,” shake. It was awful. It also gave me a modicum of mercy for the memory of how my mom raised my sister and I. If I was all alone with myself without the help of another parent or a nanny, I’d probably want to shake myself to death too.
But for the most part, Reno has always been a peach. Even teething. It was excruciating, he cried all the time. But I can still feel the weight of him in my arms as I walked him around the darkened board room of the Burning Man office. Hoping that no one would need the conference space until he fell asleep.
Sometime I would put him back down in his pack and play and the moment my arms with drew, he awoke and screamed. Only to be placated back to sleep when I held him. There were many an afternoon that I just ended up holding him the entire nap time. Sometimes just letting him lay on my chest while I slowly, carefully, and very, very, very quietly would ease myself down on the broken down love seat in the nursery.
The warm smell of little boy suffused my heart. Reno smells like salt and rising bread. I could just smell him for hours.
Here come the tears. I have been holding them at bay all day. My heart feels very guarded and I can feel the defenses crumbling. I still have a few weeks left with the Junebug, and that sadness is pretty present too.
I don’t know that I am going to say good bye. I don’t think that I can. And I know that I will see him and her again. That is inevitable, like fog in July in San Francisco, I will see them again. But I won’t have that daily give and take of being with them and I already miss it.
Horribly.
Auntiebubba 
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