Yesterday he turned 16. I woke up early and made sure the house was festive, turning on the birthday lights and making French toast in the dark. I waited. Finally, with 15 minutes to spare, he emerged dressed and ready for school. He gulped down his breakfast, opened his cards and left. He’s 16 years old.
I texted him at exactly 11:47 a.m., telling him I was so, so glad he was born and that I loved him. He’s 16 years old – I got no response.
I kept teaching. I accidentally wrote 9-18-99 on the board. My students, confused, shook me back to the present-16 years later.
Eventually I gave up texting and called his phone, old-school style. I heard laughter and skateboard wheels grinding, and his voice sounded like he was having fun. He said he didn’t know his plan-sounds like sixteen.
I rushed home to start the five pounds of chicken in the slow-cooker; he wanted soft tacos, and sixteen-year-olds like to eat. I needed to be ready. Even though it’s Friday night, they would skate by the house, making a pit stop on the way to the first football game of the year. At 4:34 I texted, “Any idea when you guys might be here to eat?” “IDK,” was his reply.
It’s 6:42, and no skaters in sight. “Dinner is ready,” I sent.
7:26. “Where r u?” went out to the ethers.
7:45. I gave up and called. Voice mail. Damn iPhone battery. Called his buddy; the crowd cheering in the background. We’re close enough to hear it out our windows, too. No pit stop after all. Maybe later.
We ate without him. 16-year-old birthday party for two.
The clack of his board skating down the street woke me. 10:15? How could I have dozed off that early? He smiled as I opened the front door. “Want some tacos?” I asked, trying to remain festive. It’s his birthday, after all.
“Yeah, I’m starving. Sorry-the guys had to go home after the game. Smells amazing in here, though. I had such an awesome day, Mom. Ryan took me out for lunch, then after school we skated and hung out and…I love high school, Mom. I had a great birthday. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, bud.” I stood on my tiptoes to kiss that sunggle spot just below his chin. His sixteen-year-old cheek, no longer soft and chubby, absorbed my nuzzle. His arms wrapped around me, hugging me close.
“Happy sixteen, bud. I love you.” Releasing his arms, he smiled as he walked down the hallway, humming to himself as he closed the bedroom door.
“I love you too, Mom,” he replied, just before it clicked shut.
My Favorite Moments of 2015-A Year In Photos - mamawolfeJanuary 31, 2016
[…] My boy turned 16. What I love about this photo is how much he’s changed, yet how he’s stayed the same. He didn’t want a ‘sweet 16’ party like my girl did, so I dug out an old cake photo to contrast with where he is today – the fact that his broken leg healed, he was able to skim board in Carmel and is growing into such a determined, kind human….I’m a proud mamawolfe. […]Reply
She's Nineteen, And She Doesn't Live Here Anymore - mamawolfeDecember 1, 2015
[…] This is Sixteen- Happy Birthday to My Boy […]Reply
My Inner ChickSeptember 21, 2015
So many beautiful memories to store away.
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Jennifer WolfeSeptember 22, 2015
Yes, the memories are so precious, aren’t they? The older they get, the more I try to grasp at them. Thanks so much for reading!
NinaSeptember 21, 2015
This is sweet for so many reasons, most of all it give a mom like me hope that we can give independence and still maintain a certain closeness.Reply
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Jennifer WolfeSeptember 22, 2015
Nina, thank you so much for your comment! It made me think about how delicate that balance is, and how sometimes we just are stumbling blindly, trying to do what we think is right. His birthday was one of those times! I so appreciate your support.