Mom-son: -1-

I will not make him feel guilty for growing up. I will not cry where he can see me (okay, maybe just once). And I will learn to love the fist bump, even while I miss the sticky, small hand in mine.

Because this isn’t the end of our story. It’s just Part 1. Mom-Son -1-

It started small. He closes his bedroom door now. He used to leave it open a crack, like a little question mark. Now it’s a period. When I ask about his day, “fine” is a full sentence. When I try to kiss his forehead goodbye at school drop-off, he ducks—just slightly—and gives me a fist bump instead. I will not make him feel guilty for growing up

I stood frozen for a second, my palm still tingling from where his fingers used to be. Because this isn’t the end of our story