I remember your first cry
And the silence that followed
And the oxygen bag puffing into your lungs
I remember the pinking up
And the sighs of relief
And holding you tight to my skin, whispering thanks to our God
I remember bringing you home
And the taking of turns
And how all of your siblings sounded as they learned to say your name
I remember footie pajamas
And your favorite juice
And how it screeched when you scraped the stool to the table to sneak a cookie
I remember when you were three
And trains were everything
And I still made work-all-night birthday cakes from scratch
I remember when you were shortest
And your voice was perfectly pitched to sweetness
I remember your hiking boots
That we could never find
But when we did
They only stayed on your feet for one hot minute
I remember gallons of water
And endless days of mud
And the complete futility of wearing anything white
I remember all the times your sweet sister read you a story
And how it easily became ‘your thing’
And how this is so dear that my heart swells every time I think of it
I remember your first birthday breakfast
How you ordered everything
And ate nothing
And sat so proudly with us like the big kids always did
I remember carousels
And how you felt all cuddled up when you were scared
I remember naps with the dogs
And tree climbing
And sippy cups
And stomach pains.
I remember today.
How you are feet taller
And deep heart wiser
And one of my very favorite people to ever be around.
It is your birthday.
And this is my gift.
To get to be near enough
To pay very close attention
Happy Birthday, Silas!
Forever grateful to be your mom.