One Year

I look at the thousands of photos taken since minute 1, and ask the cliche: how did this happen? From carefully swaddled bundle to rocknrolla/gibberisher with teeth. And shoes. And big boy jeans. And real poops vs. odorless splurge. Eyes, ears that miss nothing: airplanes, shiny moons, hummingbirds, TV remotes to be dunked into the cold cup of coffee carelessly left on the piano bench…So many lessons for the mama to learn. So much adaptation to accept—with mustered grace—despite dried banana in my hair—but I’m beyond caring about that. A tiny mind is in the world, roaming, figuring things out. I will continue my note taking, watch his health, cultivate patience, keep up—when I can’t keep ahead.