Something strange, frightening, and kind of magical is happening in my house. Just a year ago my son was strumming his guitar singing Jason Mraz love songs in a high-pitched voice. He was asking me to videotape him while he narrated a “how to” video on making an apple pie for a kids’ cooking show he was launching on "You Tube." And, he was begging me to play catch in the backyard or go on a bike ride. 

Then, week-by-week, month-by-month, like the Beanstalk, he started to grow and grow and grow and grow. We were shopping in Target and he said, “Hey Mom, I’ll meet you at the checkout stand, I need some important things.” Instead of toys or baseball cards, he turned up at counter with a bottle of Old Spice cologne, AXE deodorant and AXE body spray. One morning, he came down to breakfast and the voice of man came out of his mouth; a month later, it seemed he grew three inches; he needed size 12 shoes; and then a month later, he had shaved his mustache and he was three inches taller than me.

Of course I remember him in diapers laughing hysterically as his chubby, wobbly legs struggled to push his plastic walker down the hallways of our New York apartment. “Mama, Mama!” he squealed, smiling, drooling and joyous. I remember mornings before kindergarden sitting with him on the shores of Spy Pond in Boston, throwing bread out to our special ducks we had named Cassie and Allie. It was our morning ritual - visit Cassie and Allie and watch the sun come up as the light changed. Then we would follow the birds as they circled in search of food and their family members.

I remember when we took the training wheels off my son's bike and he learned to ride a two-wheeler in the cul de sac of our new home in Richmond. Once he got it, he was off, heading down the street at full speed. Never the same again. Last month I took him the airport to fly alone to Florida to visit his grandmother. Walking to the gate, we passed a shiny red Audi sports car on display and he pointed to the car and declared, “As soon as I get my license I am going to buy that car and drive away from our house as quickly as I can.” I am sure he will. And he will head down the highway at full speed. And I will never know how it happened or how to say goodbye.


I'm a journalist and leadership / media consultant. Valley Haggard is my inspiration.
My website: www.ostersachs.com