Always my baby

As I sat in my office and worked on the computer tonight, I heard footsteps in the hallway. I turned, expecting to see my hubby plodding down the hall in a sleepy stupor. I was surprised to see my preteen son, *Seth, instead.

"What are you doing up?' I asked cheerfully. Seth paused and leaned against the doorway.

"Wha-what? I'm going to get a glass of water. Can I do that, or is that against the law?" It took every ounce of self-control I had to keep my mouth shut. My son was normally a very easy-going young man, but, like me, he was not pleasant to be around after he woke up.

I listened as the wooden floors creaked beneath his steps. He no longer had the light hesitant step of a toddler; his tread was more solid, more determined. It was the walk of a young man. Part of me wanted to follow him into the kitchen, to make sure that my baby got what he needed. I knew that he would resent that though. *Seth had told me just a few days ago that he wanted to do more things for himself. So, I opted to stay in my office and take "a trip down memory lane."

I walked over to an old blue glider-rocker and stroked the frayed fabric tenderly. It seemed like only yesterday that I rocked Seth--then an infant--to sleep in it. Carefully I sunk into the rocker and let the warm memories engulf me and carry me away. Many precious hours were spent in that rocker. I would gently rock my slumbering baby while softly singing to him. While he slept, I gently stroked his downy hair and whispered my pledge of undying love into his ear.

Now, my lap was empty as I rocked, rocked and worried. Through Seth's early school years, I wanted to fight his battles against the playground bullies; instead I wiped the tears from his eyes and tried to give him the courage to fight his own battles. I knew that if I fought for him, he would never be able to stand up for himself. Not that I didn't want to; it broke my heart to hear of other children being so cruel to him.

I hoped with all my heart that I had instilled enough morals and value in him to enable him to make the right choices in life. There were times that I had been strict with him, maybe too strict. Like me, Seth is a outging person who loves to talk. I thought of the times I had asked him to be quiet for a while. It suddenly hit me like a thunderbolt. There would soon come a day when these walls would no longer ring with childish laughter and chatter. There would only be silence; a depressing damning silence. I dropped my face into my hands and wept unashamedly.

I don't want that. I want my baby with me forever, I thought. Suddenly, I felt another presence in the room. I looked up and saw Seth smiling gently at me. Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tightly.

"Uuh, Mama," he stammered. "Could you. . .I mean so you think. . .would you sing me to sleep? You know, the way you used to."

Silently, we tiptoed to his room. I tucked him into bed and sang his favorite song. I held his hand and stroked his hair until he fell asleep. He would always be my baby.