I am not ready to turn the page.
I am having a hard time reading the last words of this chapter, knowing that when I do, when I finish reading Part One, it means that 18 years will have screamed by quicker than I could fathom.
I want to wait to read Part Two. Don't I still have time? Please. I just need a little more time.
I want to re-read the childhood part. I have passages I've forgotten and I want to remember. I want to highlight. I want to underline. I want to add exclamation points. I want to add dramatic pauses.
I want to re-read it all. Memorize it. Recite it back to myself so that my heart doesn't miss key plot points.
I want to re-live it all.
I want to dive in the deep end with no life preserver and do it all over again. Tread water. Catch him as he trusts me to keep him afloat.
Hear him giggle as he splashes me. Feel the weight of his need for me. How I long now for that need now.
I want to sit in his room and stare at him. Just stare. He is older than he was just a second ago. The clock hands are moving too fast. I want to hang on them to slow them down.
I could not love him more than this moment, yet I know tomorrow I will. It is impossible. Incontainable. Undeniable. For this love to keep growing as it does.
Just let me sit here in this exquisite, breath-stealing sadness. This recollection of my sweet son. This transformation of beloved child into amazing man.
Let me have this moment before Part One wraps up. I will turn the page when I'm ready.
Just not yet.