With Halloween fast approaching, do you want to hear something spooky? I might be losing my shadow. 

“Just a minute and I’ll ride with you,” I chirped. I’m notoriously not a morning person and—thank you middle age—need to do a handful of therapeutic movements before I exercise. So when I was actually ready in time to bike to school with my 5th-grader, I was pretty proud of myself.

“Oh…that’s nice Mom, but no thanks. You know, I need to get used to riding on my own for middle school.” It was enough to give me a jump scare. He didn’t want me to go with him?

Next month, my son turns 11. There’s something about this birthday that feels different. Although he’s still immersed in childhood, he’s wading into adolescence. Seemingly overnight, he favors his friends’ company over his parents’ most days. He’s not as persistent about long-drawn-out bedtime snuggles. He mews frequently and uses foreign words, like sigma and bet.

He’s at a threshold, and so am I. It appears the days are long era may have a natural conclusion, and I’m preparing for the years are short chapter of motherhood. Sometimes, when I reach for a hug, he dodges my arms. I can feel him—and time—slipping through my fingers.

So, I’m practicing being present in the moments of our story. Turning the pages of the paperback slowly, instead of quickly swiping through an e-book. 

I’m savoring the closeness when he leans in for an embrace. Cuddling at night, even when he doesn’t insist. Enjoying infinite car rides to sporting events as avenues for connection. Treasuring when he reaches for my hand, still a fraction smaller than my own. Letting each “I love you so much, Momma” land deeply in my heart.

Raising this boy has often been the most fulfilling (and fatiguing) time of my life. As I find myself holding onto his childhood with surprising tenacity, I’m also remembering that I’ve delighted in each stage of his evolution. I don’t want him to grow up, and, of course I want him to grow up. I grieve the fading shadow, and, rejoice in his brightness of being and emerging form. 

In the meantime, I’ll cherish every last minute of my little boy—taking many a mental snapshot—on the (still frequent) days he doesn’t ghost me.

***

Mental Snapshot

Using our eyelids as shutters, we can be more present in special moments by taking pictures with our minds. Experiment with the following practice.

When you find yourself in an experience you want to hold close, heighten your awareness for a few breaths. Tune into your environment with all of your senses: Sight, sound, smell, taste, touch. Say to yourself: Mind this moment. Soften your gaze and blink your eyes slowly. Click. Let the moment settle into your mind and heart.