At 5 am this morning, Alex asked me to take his vital signs. “I feel my heart racing, Mama,” he said, as he handed me the medical kit. After having his heart rate, respiratory rate and blood pressure checked (all normal), he kissed me gently on the cheek and whispered “I love you, Mama. Thank you.” Then, he left the room to get ready for school, leaving me and Alphonse alone in the room.
I’ve missed this boy’s kisses. I missed the little child he once was. I should never have let him grow up too fast and too early. All too soon. my little baby — premature and fuzzy, too small even for small-sized infant clothes — has become a man. Today, he is mere moments away from complete independence and I miss all the moments in between.
I will always be grateful for this young man’s love. Alex — romantic and sweet, headstrong and stubborn, emotional and fiery — is my wellspring of joy and my source of humor and lightheartedness. Only Alex can make me laugh the way he does.
When he was six, Alex brought home wrote an essay he wrote about the woman he loved most in the world — me! In it, he wrote that I was kind and generous, thoughtful and caring. I was very flattered until he told me his classmate wrote that his mother was, ahh, ehhm, sexy. I remember him punctuating the sentence with a little gasp.
“And why didn’t you write the same of me?” I feigned hurt feelings.
“But Mama, that would be a lie!”
May you always be honest, my love, even if the truth may hurt.
A few weeks ago, Alex told us that he had applied for membership to the Celadon, his university’s official Chinese Filipino organization.
“Are you sure, son? You are only an eighth Chinese!” I reminded him.
“Well, Mama, if there were eight parts of me, I am sure that one of them is a hundred percent Chinese!”
May you always be proud of who you are, my son. Never let anyone make you think or feel that you are less than who you are.
Saturday afternoon, A and I were discussing a family issue and the debate was fun, lively, and engaging. Alex, on the computer, seemed oblivious to it all at first. After a while, probably tired from hearing his parents go on and on, he suddenly said, “In marriage, one person is always right and the other is the husband.” A readily conceded defeat and we all started laughing. 🙂
What can I say? I trained my boy well!
And may you always remember that love means giving of yourself, even if it means losing in the process.