Anchor

Dear Caleb,


You just turned five and suddenly look like it overnight! You look so much like your dad. Blonde, straw-like hair that I have to wet, comb and gel fanatically each morning. Long arms, long legs, skinny. You act like your dad too. I laugh at your inquiries and quirks because I get a glimpse of what Daddy was like when he was your age.

Your favorite thing to do with me right now is wrestle. One day soon you will realize that the other boys don’t typically wrestle with their moms- and most moms are not trained grapplers. You will feel both lucky and cheated. Sorry. You also are prone to wrestle with me emotionally these days. You are stubborn.  Just like me. While your similarities with your father bond you to him, our similarities cause dispute.

My favorite thing to do with you right now is read- whether you are reading to me for your daily chore or I am reading to you from a chapter book before bed. It is a quiet time that exposes the interworking of your mind, and its maturity. A level of maturity I marvel at. At the end of most days, as I tuck you into bed, I come to the conclusion that your little body has not caught up to your vivacious spirit and regret being less-than tender with you throughout the day. Right now we are reading James and the Giant Peach together and you love it. You laugh at all the right spots. Your humor affectionately reminds me of your dad- his humor being the quality that made me fall in love with him.

I fall in love with you frequently. I have learned that for you I could not be the type of mom I envisioned as a young woman. There would be occasions for softness and gentleness, but what you needed most was my candor and reproach. You are very independent with no credit due to me. That is who you have always been. You thrive with order. Much like me, you realize with organization there comes a freedom of flexibility for creativity.  This is why I think you want to be a chef or, your latest aim, an architect when you are older because they are careers of sequences, measurements- exactness but have an element of inventiveness.  Find a career that feeds both your need for control and creation. Being your mom has fed mine.

Other activities you enjoy are the outdoors, building things… castles, towers, houses, cabins, hobbit holes (Daddy read a few chapters from The Hobbit to you one evening and you haven’t forgotten about it), fences, tents, bridges, churches, schools, temples, factories, the list goes on… and doing crafts. You are looking forward to going camping and taking swimming lessons again this summer. Every day is a grab bag of emotions regarding our pending move to Texas- some days you are excited, other days you are anxious.

The thing you least enjoy is cleaning the playroom, but it is on your chore chart so I encourage you to do it to help our family. You have trouble focusing and get overwhelmed by the task. I usually have to sit in the room while you pick-up, so I roll call (your suggestion) the toys you are to pick up next- first the bricks, then the Lincoln Logs, then the babies and books go back upstairs, vehicles go in the green tub, etc. I try to trip you up by making incorrect suggestions and you laugh, tell me I’m wrong and do it correctly despite my protest.

The reason I am writing this letter is to not forget something, but more importantly so you don’t forget something. A while ago I found a song that perfectly describes our relationship. It makes me tear up every single time and I don’t want to misplace it. The song is Anchor by MindyGledhill.

Caleb, during a time when absolutely nothing could keep me grounded, you were my anchor. You became my purpose, my pleasant distraction. I will spend the rest of your life being your biggest supporter and fan. I wouldn’t have you any other way. I love you, Elias.


Your anchor,

Mommy