I remember in Florida having Nathan in that brand new stroller out on the porch of that lakehouse. Gorgeous new stroller with no miles on it, still crackly from the box, not sun dried or bleached, and three day old Nathan, the new baby, my first baby, taking up the space of a kitten stretched out in there. That humidity, my mom was washing the porch off of the dog off with water, and that big lake was behind us, with alligators even though I never saw any, and I had Nathan there, fresh from the gods.
Now the stroller is missing a seat, it's 11 years old, it's in the trunk of the white van Blizzard, it seats Lilly's bottom now at the zoo and schleps stuff to and from school. We live at school, Lilly's life is just with me at school, visitng the older kids.
Today was one of Nathan's last days in elementary school. Our wonderful little school with the cast of teachers we have known for 6 years now - at noon I stood in the auditorium where the 5th graders were having their luncheon, catered by Panda Express. They were getting teachers' autographs, friends' autographs, you could feel summer outside the doors, the 90 degree weather belting through the door cracks.
All these kids swirling around me but that Nathan is still the same - he's gigantic -he's relaxed, despite my anxiety all the time. He's sure of himself, he's a thinker, he's wiggly, he's strong, he cares. He's not shy, except he is shy a little bit. I was looking at the 5th grade Nathan, and at the little sign we painted hanging from the stage curtains behind him, "Class of 2011." The sign was an accident, we painted it in Emma's class yesterday. They were painting Van Gogh's Starry Night and Nathan came to "help" and then we painted a graduation sign for his classroom. Tiny little sign, just for fun and now it hangs on the main sign to celebrate the kids, our nothing little sign is THE sign, a shot of fireworks swallowed against the hugeness of the stage. It fits. It's understated. But somehow it's there, directly in the center. Just like Nathan.
Florida baby is growing up. Despite everything I try, all the ways I'm sure I ruin him, all the bad moods, everything I've done wrong, there is this tall blonde weed just growing happily. They know how to play, these kids. They know how to love. Barry has been our buoy, I cast off the streamers, and the kids sail us.
It has been the most remarkable 11 years of my life. Each day is, we're all ingrown and sprouting. And then there's this suddenly growing up boy. And every moment is like this gradutioun. Seeing him born. Putting on his tiny sandals. Driving to Target. Watching him, this interesting, funny person.
It's not sacrifice, being a mother. It's opening the door and being swallowed under a snowdrift. But you don't have to breathe because everyone you care about is right under there with you.
Nathan, you came along just in the nick of time. I raise my flag up to you as you stand up with all those big kids.
I stand strong, saluting in tattered shorts on the rickety Opper raft made of logs tied together with dental floss. I have no idea what I'm doing. But you are nimble on your bare feet, the river is wide, summer is ahead, and you and your sisters and brother are all I ever wanted.
