Come on Mom, let's arm wrestle!
Over the past couple of years, my oldest son Marco had enjoyed testing his growing strength against me. So had I. It was fun to feel him resist my pull and it was also fun to lay his arm flat on the table, shortly thereafter.
Last night, he asked again and I walked over to the table with him, feeling warm with the anticipation of this familiar ritual. Come to think of it, last night was a full moon and we all seemed a little giddier than usual.
So, there we were. Ready to start, eyes locked and smiling.
And then it happened. In one tiny second.
As I flexed my muscle against his, he effortlessly flattened my arm on the table.
We were both shocked.
Time stopped for a moment as we looked at each other without talking and this time there was a little bit of something like fear in our eyes.
Could things have changed this dramatically in the last few months?
In an instant, we acknowledged time. Time that had made his arm start to look like a man's. Time that was slowly melting a little bit of muscle away from mine.
We were still holding hands when he snapped out of it and asked me to do it again.
Ready to fight harder this time, I braced myself.
No difference at all.
And that is when he embraced it; when he hooted, did a little happy dance, his eyes shining bright.
It was a huge moment for both of us. A little bit like giving birth to him again.
My love for this kid has grown so deep over the past couple of years. Watching him dive into teenage-hood while remaining open to his intrinsic goodness, spirit of fun and wit. He fills my cup - and yes he often drives me nuts.
And now he kicks my butt at arm wrestling.
Forever, I am sure.
(oh, as soon as the excitement was over, I quietly walked over to the phone and called the gym to inquire about memberships. As it turns out Marco - and his sister Tanissa - are joining with me. There is no escaping time, only loving it for its sweet assortment of gifts)