The Boy Turns 13 on Wednesday

Posted by jael on Apr 25, 2011 in Parenting, Spiritual Journey |

He’s petitioned grandparents for a new gaming system.

He’s booked his buds for a cook-out, sleep-over.

He’s taking his girl out Saturday afternoon after he fences on The Downtown mall.

(Chaperoned.)

He texts as fast as the wind.

He began the year in a size 8 shoe, and I just bought him size 10.5 soccer cleats for the Spring season.

Men’s.

He has a discernable mustache,
his own distinct code of honor.
and a sense of humor that makes him crack himself up.

I love when he laughs at his own jokes.

He still hugs and kisses us goodnight and goodbye.

And writes poetry

(used with permission)

4/13/11

Emotions

It feels like a drawn out sigh,

The prickling of tears you wish you could cry.

It smells like sweat,

That horrible odor.

It looks like a bowed head,

A creased brow.

It sounds like hollow cheer,

But still utterly sad.

It tastes like glue in your mouth,

Silencing your cries.

It is hopelessness.

It feels like a fire

Burning white hot inside you.

It smells like burnt plastic,

Putrid and vile.

It looks like a beet red face,

Like a cherry about to burst.

It sounds loud and incoherent,

Hurtful and sad.

It tastes like a poison

Corrupting your soul

It is anger.

It feels like your flying

High in the sky

It smells like her odor,

That only you know.

It looks like togetherness

And a bonding of two.

It sounds like a heartbeat,

Quick and fast.

It tastes like delight,

And the food you most like.

It is love.

It feels like a warm blanket,

Made just for you.

It smells warm and familiar,

Like a distant memory.

It looks like innocence,

White and pure.

It sounds like a laugh,

Or a well sung song.

It tastes sweet

And also rich.

It is joy.

They feel like a drawn out sigh, like a white hot fire burning inside.

Like the feeling of flying high in the sky, like a warm blanket.

They smell like sweat and burning plastic.

Like an odor and a memory.

They look like a bowed head and a beet red face.

A togetherness and innocence.

They sound utterly sad, mean and horrid.

Like a heartbeat and a laugh.

They taste like glue and like poison.

Like delight and sweetness.

They are emotions.

I love our boy.

And it’s not a cry that you hear at night
It’s not somebody who’s seen in the light
It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
!

2 Comments

Sarah Grace
Apr 25, 2011 at 10:12 pm

Oh I love this, Jael. Beautifully written. And he is such a beautiful writer too, WOW.
I have two younger brothers about his age. They also have mustaches that they wear as badges of honor, (much to the dismay of their sister.)
Happy birthday to the boy!

Sarah


 
jael
Apr 28, 2011 at 3:32 pm

He will strut to hear you say it. Compliments such as these bring out the swagger in him! I appreciate your words. Your heart for service transcends the virtual stage!


 

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