"Carry Your Boy"

The answer came faster and clearer than I wanted.

Moments within walking in the door of kindergarten today - it was clear - vividly clear - that:

He was ready.

And:

I was not.

His instant and firm grasp on "George's" tiny outstretched hand made it true and oh, so real.

He is ready.

George, Dec's kindergarten pal for the afternoon visit, led him to the rug. He introduced him to the other kids. One even reached out for a formal hand shake. Dec shook hands. My heart melted. Dec's smile grew bigger. He is ready. He is so happy and so ready.

And, I'd love to say that Dec looked back at his teary eyed mom and dad standing helplessly in the corner of the classroom near the hallway door.

But he didn't.

He didn't look back.

****

The other day, for some reason unknown to me (even after reflecting on it for a few days now), I scooped Dec into my arms and carried him through the parking lot on our way in to a store.

I think it surprised him (and me). He didn't argue. Rather, he placed his arms around my neck. It was comfortable. So I carried him.

It felt good.

I don't carry Dec often any more. My arms are usually filled with Nonie.

Just as we got to the door of the store, we passed an older gentleman who gave us nary a smile in passing. As we reached the door the man turned and said sharply, "Carry Your Boy."

I turned around to face him - not sure if he was speaking to me.

Our eyes met and I knew he was.

"Carry your boy," he said. "Carry him for as long as you can. My boy is 39 and I still have moments when I wish I could scoop him into my arms just as you're doing now with your son."

"I will," I promised the man. My words were spoken in a voice I hardly recognized. Tears stung my eyes as the man walked toward his car.

****

And so, I will carry my boy. My boy who is ready for kindergarten.

For as long as I can I will carry my boy.

And when I can't carry my boy any longer - I have a feeling he just might be ready...

to carry me.