He sits here, reading to me.
I’m in awe.
He’s been reading for a while but the harder the books get, the harder my heart explodes with joy and gratitude and pride.
He carefully reads each page, making sure I’m paying close attention. He wants to be noticed and seen. He has no clue that I’ve been tracking his every move since he was just a tiny baby.
He has no idea that I spent hours discussing his future with doctors. He has no idea that I watched from the sidelines of each physical therapy and speech therapy session. Honestly, he probably doesn’t even remember therapy.
He has no idea that I’ve been paying close attention to every move since before he could crawl or walk or talk. He has no idea that one day, a long time ago, I was fearful and scared about milestones missed and developmental delays.
He has no idea the intensity in which I’ve been paying attention. He has no idea I’ve been blown away by his progress and growth. He has no idea that there was a time when he did things slower and differently than most.
He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t have to. He changed the trajectory of his path and it was priceless.
Look at him. He has flourished beyond my hopes, and soared past my fears. He crawled and walked and talked on his own timeline and pace. Now, he does the same with math and reading and science.
The breathtaking difference, now his pace is faster than most. His pace is accelerated and mighty. Just like his personality.
He has no clue that I’ve been tracking his accomplishments and milestones since the day he was born. He doesn’t know because he’s been too busy crushing the silent goals everyone else had for him.
I’m so lucky he is mine.
I’ll forever find myself in awe of him, and all of his becoming.
This piece originally appeared at Happiness, Hope & Harsh Realities, published with permission.