This morning, I left my home and moved into a hotel across town while contractors work on renovating our bathroom and some other areas of the house, due to water damage. But before I left, I knelt down low and just brushed my fingers across the faded blue line on the bathroom wall. With a tear running down my cheek and an ache in my heart, I closed my eyes knowing things would never be the same.
That little patch of blue will never again catch my eye as I blow dry my hair or walk out the door. The slight smile and flood of memories it brings will need to come from another source.
Soon, fresh paint will replace the peculiar blue marks, and with it, a chapter closes. You see, the blue paint, just 12 inches high on the bathroom wall, is one of the few tangible reminders of days gone by. There was a time, seemingly just yesterday, when one blond-haired little boy could be found pulling a stool just his size, from the wall to the bathroom sink. Here, he would stretch up on his tippy toes and reach as far as he could to wash his hands (play in the water), brush his teeth (suck on the toothbrush), and catch a glimpse of his changing reflection (make silly faces at himself in the mirror). After he was through, he would (not so gently) return the stool to its place against the wall. Hence, the blue smudges.
The stool no longer resides by the sink, but rather in a corner of his grown-up room. It will ALWAYS hold a special place in my heart, as it was hand-made by my grandfather, for my baby boy. What a special gift. Made by such talented hands and with so much love, that little blue stool was my son’s first step to independence and self-discovery. Using his stool, he climbed onto the counter to watch me cook, snuck into the fridge for a snack, and stretched out for his favorite book on a shelf much too high.
Now it sits quite worn and obviously, missing some paint. The days of little feet pitter-pattering have been replaced with man-sized footsteps. Long gone is his need for a step stool to reach anything he desires. He has grown up faster than anyone could have prepared me for. He can’t wait to get out on his own, and I can’t seem to let go. I see him changing. I hear him changing. I feel him changing. But I’m hanging on desperately.
And today, I had a little help in letting go. The blue smudges are gone. Along with a little piece of my heart.