His favorite place to be is close to me.
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Every evening he sits in my kitchen, in a pink and green polka dot chair that once belonged to his big sister, watching and waiting for me to prepare dinner.
When we moved into our home, my husband brought the chair in off the U-haul truck and placed it against the wall opposite the stove. It was not meant to stay there, just put there to get it out of the way for the time being.
But it’s in that spot, tucked between the utility room and half bath, where it has remained all thanks to this guy.
He follows me each day into the kitchen, plops himself down with his iPad, and waits patiently. Sometimes I look over to find him staring at me, a toothy grin on his face. “I love you, Mama!” he’ll say sweetly, followed by, “Is my food ready?”
And as much as I hate that out-of-place chair being front and center in my kitchen, I have no plans to remove it anytime soon.
Four Norths in the South
I know the day will come. The dreaded day that no mother wishes to think about…the day I’m no longer his whole world.
Someday he’ll pay no mind to the fact that I’ve left the room.
He won’t follow me to the kitchen.
He won’t care that I’ve cooked him dinner.
He won’t wait for me.
He won’t look at me with pure love.
He probably won’t even notice me at all; too consumed with girls and sports to bother with the tired middle-aged woman, desperate for one more sweet toddler “I love you.”
And on that day, I’ll stare at the empty spot in the kitchen, where that hot pink chair used to sit, and I’ll long to see that tiny boy waiting for me with all his love.
This story originally appeared on Four Norths in the South
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