For the past ten weeks, I've had a lot of dreams about baby boys. I wouldn't call these dreams disturbing but, like most dreams, they have been bizarre.
One night my dream was about me buckling a baby boy into a car seat and I looked away for one moment. When I looked back, the baby boy was gone but I continued to buckle an empty car seat.
Dreams about a baby boy simply not being there any more. These dreams have not left me fearful; but rather resigned. Resigned that my baby has gone and left in his place a man.
But early this morning? In those moments where I had awakened once but slipped back into that wonderful Saturday morning doze? I had the sweetest dream of my boy.
We were seeing each other for the first time since he left for boot camp.
He was in his dress blues and he was kissing my cheek.
And it was HIS face; not some abstract, non-face that appears in many dreams.
It was my boy's face.
And his arms around me, hugging me tight.
And in the back of my not-quite-awake-yet-not-fully-asleep mind, I was telling myself.
Don't wake up. Don't wake up. Stay asleep and this feeling will last a little longer.
But of course I woke up.
And I lay in bed and basked in that sweetest of dreams - a dream of my boy - now a man who is just a hair's width away from achieving HIS dream.
And I looked at the calendar and was reminded that we are less than three weeks from seeing him. Less than three weeks from seeing our son become a Marine.
And then I walked to the mailbox and opened another sweet letter.
But still, I want to close my eyes for just a moment and picture him in that uniform, feel those arms around me and imagine that boy kissing his mama's cheek.
Sweet dreams indeed.
1 comment:
I thought I had commented on the loveliness of this touching post. . .but it was when I was having trouble seeing word verifications.
So--your post--so lovely and so heartfelt. I have a boy. He's 9. He still sleeps with his Curious George and puts Lego mini figures (with artillery in hands) in the front window of our home to protect it while we are gone, and makes the couch "just so" for me when I am tired or ill and need a place to lie down. He also doles out good advice, like today. I have a case of bronchitis. My voice is almost non-existent. This morning he said, "When I sound that way, Momma, I find a big swig of ice cold milk does the trick."
Praying for your boy--especially as next week approaches.
Post a Comment