made it.
eighteen.
i didn’t anticipate the significance 18 would hold. how many times have i thought, “for the next 18 years…” or “until he’s 18…”?
how much have i tried to hold at bay for 18 years (failing sometimes, succeeding others)? fears, doubts, anger, resentment, revenge even.
how much have i brought forward, demanded of myself for 18 years (failing sometimes, succeeding others)? peacemaking, bargaining, determination, perseverance, resourcefulness, humor even.
i woke up this morning and thought: 18 years. 18 years. we did it. we made it.
WE made it.
everything we do now truly is because we want to. it isn’t ordered by the court. it isn’t for the sake of any noble idea of preserving, at least, what little could be preserved.
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this feels like relief. like being handed a medal at the end of a race even though you didn’t win and you crossed the finish line broken and sweaty but you made it. and now we get to decide what next looks like.
we don’t have to be nice any more. we don’t have to share any more. we don’t have to talk any more. we don’t have to.
but, we can. we might. we probably will.
because we made it.
and we’ve arrived here with gladness.
eighteen.
eighteen years of growth. maturity. laughter. rebounds. new joys. wins. celebrations. LOVE.
i have loved my baby for EIGHTEEN years. and i will love him for a million more.
we’ve only just begun.
