Yesterday, after a long day, I sat on the couch with Markolee — my ten-year-old son.
Usually, around this time I would have been cooking, trying to get dinner on the table by the time hubby came home from work, and before the kids would be leaving for youth night. Yesterday, however, I had enough leftovers to serve as a second meal, and it was warming in the oven.
So there we were, just sitting, when Markolee said,
“Wowww. I am my own person.”
I heard him clearly, but I turned and asked him to repeat himself. Our eyes locked. Although his eyes were weak from a terrible cough, his face was glowing. My son beamed radiantly, ” I. Am. My. Own. Person.”
A well of unbelievable joy filled me to the brim. I pulled him into my arms and laughed — feeling it move through my entire body. I heard it booming through the house, like I was laughing the laugh of 10,000.
Before we sat down to eat, I erased the last message I had on the little chalkboard above our table. I drew four boxes, doodled a bow across the top, and wrote Markolee’s words on the inside. His personage is a gift, and as a mother watching my son realize the wonderful gift of self, I laugh.
I laugh with the ones we are connected to but cannot see, the ones who carried us in their bellies and birthed us onto the earth. The ones who carry us in their hearts and their spirits.
When did you realize you were your own person?
How do you Honor yourself?
Kadine Christie
