Posted on | May 27, 2011 | 17 Comments
My son was just placed in his father’s car seat. In his father’s car. Without me.
He asked for me, just as his little blond head was tucked into the seat. He turned around and stared at me, his mouth moving even after the door was closed and I couldn’t hear him anymore.
“Too?” he said.
“Too?” he asked.
It’s what he says when he wants me to join him. He says it when he lays down on the floor and pats the hardwood floor beside him. He says it when he climbs into a chair and pats the upholstery beside him.
And now he says it when his father puts him into his car to take him away.
Only I’m not coming with you this time, darling. I can’t come with you this time.
For the first time, my son will be going somewhere without me. In a different city. Making memories with people who used to be my family. He will be fine. He will be well cared for and happy. He loves his father and it was evident in the way he hurled himself into his arms when he appeared in the doorway.
He happily waved, hugged, kissed, and “love you-d” me from his father’s arms. But when he was walked out the door to the car, when he was waving to me from the driveway…
I wish it were that easy, my sweet, sweet son.
I will miss you this weekend. Come home to me soon.