So we sailed on to the sun.

I was eternally grateful to share this New One's impending arrival with my Big Son. I let him declare his name for a Warrior because it was necessary for the days to come.

He went easy on me. In utero. As if he knew I could use a break. And he wasn't one to drag me through a long or difficult labor. As if he knew my breaking point had already overreached. He was a pro nurser. No fuss as if he knew time was of the essence. He was a miracle sleeper and I kept his bed next to mine when we moved to our new place. And then again. But he wouldn't complain.

He's a trooper like that.

Oftentimes, he would suffer silently for days until I realized he was ill or ill equipped. Why didn't you tell me?, I would say. It wasn't that bad yet, he would shrug.

He thinks of others often. His is a sharp intuition, noting nuances he cannot yet articulate. He is sweet and good on the inside where it counts. He is generous to a fault but his world is a challenge in which to coexist, cluttered with tokens of flighty creativity and the discarded remains of overdue projects. The only way to survive is to step back and admire a beautiful mind because after the battle to strike a balance between structure and promise, It is what it is.

When you feel frustrated, on the verge of tears, he freezes time to console you. Then he gears up, fists balled, to right the wrongs done to those he loves. His own love is honorable and raw.

Just when I believe myself capable of sharing my sons with Another, as if I've arrived, This man child discovers he might just like to try it. My heart informs me otherwise and wrenches at the prospect from a place I didn't know existed. I fear my own growing pains even while I accept the necessary, inevitable eventuality of the day where he discovers that what he has to offer is too good not to share.

But, for now, I am eternally grateful to keep it to myself.