This morning my husband came to give me a kiss and a hug before he left for work. He leaves very early, so I’m usually still snuggled into my warm bed. Most of the time he gives me a kiss and is gone, but this morning he scooped his arms around me and gave me a big hug, which meant that I got to put my hand on his head and feel the soft velvet of his latest haircut.
His hair is pretty short now, and feels quite fuzzy and soft. I’m finding I want to touch it more than when it was longer. As we paused there, in the predawn, I ran my fingers across his hair and had a flash of memory of our boys. “I remember when the boys had hair that felt like this.” I mumbled, half asleep and very relaxed in that moment.
And then, a flood of memories raced through my mind within a split second…
-giving the boys their annual spring buzz cut on the back porch
-a photo of me laughing, clippers in hand, when I had only buzzed half of Hubby’s hair and stopped to look at the difference
-the boys playing with their big wheels, swimming in the pool and running around the backyard
-how much I enjoyed rubbing my hands across their fuzzy little heads when they came up to give me a hug
The sudden realization that this was all years ago, and was now the past and never to be repeated anywhere but in my mind, was rather bittersweet. I’d never again run my hand across their velvet, nor see them ride their big wheels, nor have them come to my waist when I hugged them. None of that would ever occur again anywhere else, but in my mind. But that’s the blessing. Even though time has moved on and my boys are all grown and good people, they are still in my mind as young children and I can go visit them and rub their fuzzy little heads whenever I want.