On August 6th of 2010 I wrote a blog for my eldest son Schuyleur and today I am reposting it for his 35th birthday. Where does the time go?
The son I once knew has disappeared.
If you see him, please let me know where he is.
I think he is about six feet tall, and has a big smile – like his Mother.
Beware, as Schuyeur has a lot of stories to tell – like his Mother.
Thirty five years ago I gave birth to a baby that was the size of a small country. After 28.5 hours of labour he was put into the Intensive Care Nursery because I had Gestational Diabetes and he weighed more than all the babies in there combined. Councillor Doreen O’Sullivan from North Grenville remembers too– as she was there as a nurse in the Civic Hospital.
I named him after a character in a soap opera called Schuyleur Whitney from the late “The Edge of Night”. He asks me often why I did not spell his name with only six letters. (Skyler)
I told him because of his name, he would excel in spelling.
He did.
Schuyleur mysteriously came home after lunch one day when he was in Grade one. He told his grandparents that they had closed school for the afternoon due to lack of school work.
The school called looking for him thirty minutes later.
Busted!
So where did my son go I ask myself. The one I used to know.
Where is the kid that made an exact replica of Mr. Hankie from South Park for his Caldwell french immersion class?
Who else, but my child, makes an animated piece of poo from Fimo?
What other child argues in French with his teacher that it should be accepted as his class project?
He is definitely his mother’s child.
He was once a birthday party man, used to love my store, and the girls that worked for me.
He used to like to play dress up.
Yes, his Halloween chicken suit gathers dust upstairs.
Maybe one day he will come back for it.
The house is quiet now, and the yard holds no more laughter and chaos.
The basketball net has been long forgotten, and his silver bike lies unused in the garage.
Maybe, I am looking for the wrong person.
Maybe, Mothers always see their sons and daughters as still young children.
Maybe, we never seem to realize that they have grown up.
Instead of the small child I am looking for, maybe I should see what he has become.
A man that worked hard in school, and wants to succeed.
He has made us proud.
One day, he too, will search for his child not realizing that he or she has long grown up.
Only pictures on shelves hold the memories I seek.
Documented proof that instead of searching for my child, I should be now looking for the man that he has become.
lindaseccaspina 