for mothers day. A Poem:
You Drove my Drive.
By Aramint Self
You were born on a dark and stormy winter’s day. You, a raging bundle of fiery wonder, could be heard three floors down. Though worn and weary. I was ready to be your mom.
Your tiny fingers and toes all counted. The days, weeks, and months that passed were met with vigor and fatigue side by side.
Soon enough, you turned one; the world seemed so dangerous and new. Yet unscathed, you took it head on. You took your first steps, you spoke your first word. I was in awe all along the way.
You turned two, three, four, then five. Suddenly you were off to school. You were running toward a destiny, uncontrolled yet predetermined. I was happy and yet so weary. I cried, I laughed, and then I sighed.
You turned six, seven, eight, and nine with those years foreseen challenges came; I was prepared. Wasn’t I? I’d read all those parenting manuals and magazines to thus prepare. Your challenges, foreseen, were welcomed by me with a bit of snobbish, academic aire. You were a fierce ball of wonder, with wisdom beyond your years.
So often, you drove me crazy. Yet you drove my drive to believe to care, to be on guard, and always be aware of that ineluctable day of which would soon be here.
You turned ten, eleven, then twelve. Your hair, your clothes, your attitude were battles I often chose not to dare. There were bigger battles every where; your teasing a girl or fighting a boy, your first poor grade on a school report. I fought those battles with a sense of pride and wore the badge of honor each and every time.
Still, you drove me crazy. Yet, you drove my drive to believe, to care, to be on guard, and always be aware of that unavoidable day for which would soon be here.
You pulled my heart by its strongest strings and played them like a fiddle. Your smile would acquit you of any wrong. Your hugs would melt my anger. Your, “I love you’s” would seal the deal. You won over any crowd with your slick wit and wisdom; wise words you would preach to anyone. So like you, yet so beyond your years.
Some days, you drove me crazy. But always, you drove my drive to believe, to care, to be on guard, and always be aware of that inevitable day that will soon be here.
Then, without warning; though there were plenty of signs, your teen years were here! Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen; the era of hormones and cars; bad music and curfew wars. I was unprepared.
Could the manuals and magazines have had it all wrong?
You were just as unique as when you were five, just taller and wiser. You were like a fool in love, not stopping to breath or care. Hormone driven, full throttle; racing a head, toward the day that was all too near.
More often than not you drove me crazy. Still, you drove my drive to believe, to care, to be on guard and always be aware of the fact that inescapable day, too close now, will soon be here.
The years were in fast forward. I held tightly; preparing for the roller coaster ride.
Then all of the sudden, though there were plenty of warning signs, with seventeen come and gone; eighteen happened. Like death coming to claim his due, my motherhood of childhood came to a jarring halt with you. You were no longer strolling along, holding tight to my side.
You were abruptly running, full speed ahead and embracing that famed rite of passage. You were my little boy no more. Adulthood, standing grand, and ready for the unknown land, you waved goodbye and turned away.
Though the worry was driving me crazy, I shrugged my shoulders. I sighed, hard pressed to swallow back the coming tears. I knew not how to balance this pride mixed with pain and fear.
Yes, you drove me crazy! Yet you drove my drive to believe, to care, to be on guard and always be aware of that fateful day; too close to be ignored,
That day is now here. Take care my child, my son, and my pride. Good luck out there.