Many of you celebrated my son’s first year of life with me as I documented a weekly photographic journal for his first 52 weeks. That was an incredible personal challenge and commitment for me and looking back on it, I realize how much I miss the time I spent chasing him around with my face behind my camera. That is why I am so excited to participate in Letters To Our Sons, a blog circle group where (mother) photographers from across the country write a monthly letter to their sons, complete with pictures. To keep it a “circle,” we link to each other in our letters. I am looking forward to learning about these talented photographers, their emotions and hopes as mothers, and their precious inspirational sons. I am also ready to return to focusing my lens, my heart, and my thoughts on my lovable Evan.
As I first started writing this letter, you climbed your way up onto my lap and threw your small but solid body against my chest, finding a comfortable spot for your head between my neck and shoulder. Your arms tucked themselves in between your body and mine. Your whimpering stopped. Your eyes were fixed on Jake & The Neverland Pirates, but your body language made it clear to me that I had to postpone my typing and just hold you.
Oh, how I never tire of your need for physical touch. Nor of your giggles when I squeeze your inner thighs and demand you “give me some bacon!” But it is during the quiet moments of watching you discover something new that I see a different side of you. It is my time to wonder how you will turn out, what type of boy (and man) you will be, how you will treat me as we both grow older, and how you will love another woman, someday. Reluctantly, I realize that God has made you, not for me, but for others in this world. Won’t you always need me, and need me to hold you?
As daddy was assembling something for me in my studio space, you came running to see what tools of his you could get your hands onto. You always suddenly appear if there are power tools, tape measurers, screw drivers, or hammers. I watched you place your sweet gentle hands around daddy’s wrenches and sockets and your eyes could not be distracted away from these treasures. In the moments these photos were taken, I became convinced that the “handyman gene” was passed down from your daddy, daddy’s daddy, and my daddy. I smiled. I imagined how helpful, reliable, constructive, and dependable you will be as a young man. I long to see daddy teach you how to fix things. He is a perfectionist, so be patient with his instructions and his slow, methodical pace. And remember, when you are done playing with daddy’s tools, my lap will be waiting for you.
You have all my love,
To continue reading the next letter in this blog circle, please visit Mel Karlberg Photography for Melissa’s letter to her son.