Always

I'm not sure if it is because of Friday's tragedy but I notice that I have been traveling down memory lane quite a bit in the last few days, and not even intentionally; I'll be standing there peeling carrots and I'll just have a random flashback pop into my mind.

The kids had some friends over yesterday and we were all sitting at the table eating dinner. Jake stood up and executed some sort of dramatic imitation of someone and as we all laughed at his performance, I had a flashback of when he was a baby looking up at me with those eyes, those cheeks. All of a sudden in that moment all of his layers peeled back and I saw the core of who he is, as he always was from the moment he was born, from the second I knew him as my baby. He may wear skinny jeans and skater tees, have the beginnings of facial hair and speak with a deeper voice, but I know that boy so intimately as if not one single second has passed from when I first held him against my chest.

It's report card time. I asked Jake to bring me his report card and I noticed he seemed to hunch over a bit, dragging his body up the stairs as if he was worried about my reaction to his grades. Jake is a smart kid. I won't go on and on about how smart he is because I'll lose approximately 100% of my readers if I did shit like that and quite honestly, I don't blame you because I'd drop it like it's hot too if someone started pulling that on me, but ya. He's smart.

The last few years have been a massive adjustment for our family. To name just a few: we moved cities, we changed schools, we got divorced, and my dad battled cancer. We made it through and we have so much to be thankful for and I will forever be a glass-half-full person but at the same time I need to respect the distance. We had some rough moments. For Jake to get Bs and Cs instead of his usual straight As is not only okay, but understandable.

I read his report card and I told him I'm proud of him. He was shocked, and asked, "aren't you mad at me for not getting straight As?" I answered his question with a question of my own, "Jake? Are you happy? What's the state of your heart? What letter grade would you give your heart?" and he grinned at me because he understood what I meant. "I'm happy, mom, " he said. And that's all I needed to know. I didn't even need to ask him because I can see it in his eyes, in the way he carries himself, the way he hugs his grandma and grandpa, the way he tells me he loves me before he goes to bed each night. He struggles, but so do we all. But he hasn't lost himself to adversity for I can still see Jakey in there when I look into his eyes. They sparkle with life. His cheeks are full and healthy. He laughs like his uncle Jeremy, from his soul. His heart pours out through his words with vibrancy and empathy and love. The chicken wing replaces the baby cookie, but he's still my baby Jake.

Always.