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Sunday, April 13, 2008


My son seemed so "big" as he walked out the door.

His friend, BR, had invited him to sleep over.

By going, my son chose to forgo the Pesach tiyul (hike) with his youth group.

The tiyul, he reasoned, would be with a large group of kids. He would have more fun at his friend's home.

I am proud of the maturity with which he made his decision.

His friend lives in Talpiot, just a seven minute drive away.

But I was tired, so my son was going to take the bus, by himself, for the first time.

After he left, I figured I had about two hours to myself, before the girls came home from gymnastics.

25 minutes later, there is a knock on my door.

I open the door and see my son's anguished face.

"I think I might have been waiting on the wrong side of the street.... I saw two buses going the other way...."

He is bravely trying to hold his emotions in check.

The "big, strong" boy, who left my home 25 minutes earlier, now seems so "little" and fragile.

He is "my little boy," and I need to fix this.

"Come on. I'll take you." I pronounce, hoping to swoop in and save the day.

My son looks relieved.

But as I go for my keys, I realize that my car is still in the shop and I cannot take him.

I call Moshe, but he needs to work late.

I want to fix this.

I call my neighbor, and good friend, JB. She's not home.

I call another neighbor. She is putting her kids to sleep.

My son is looking at me with wide eyes and great expectation.

I am about to break the news to him that I cannot fix this.

Just then, the phone rings.

JB calls. Her husband told her about our plight. She is on her way home and happy to help us.

My son and I quickly gather our things.

As I am locking the door, we hear a car honk.

"She's here," my son says, eager and excited.

I go along for the ride.

As we drop him off, I am struck by how "big" and how "small" my son is.

He is surely growing up.

But he still has that little boy inside of him.

And I am going to take care of him for as long as he will let me.

Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,


Sarah said...

Funny, when you wrote "I'll take you," I thought you meant "I'll take you to the bus stop and wait with you to make sure you get on the correct bus"!

come running said...

Have you read the book by Robert Munsch. Like You For Always, Love You Forever. Just have tissues handy...

It's a children's book written with both children and adults in mind.

RivkA with a capital A said...

Sarah -- that might have helped too! :-)

Come Running -- Don't know that book, but LOVE Robert Munsch books!! I wonder if I can find it here...

Have you read the Mud Puddle book? We got that as a gift for one of our kids (thanks Chani!) and I immediately became a Robert Munsch fan!