מביא שלום

On the day you were born you stopped a blizzard and the sun shone bright, welcoming you into this world.

You filled your pockets full of rocks, even though we kept telling you not to, as the tide came in and the waves came chasing after you, you lost your pants to the ocean.

Hunter ate a baby bird that you were trying to rescue; I’ve never seen you cry so hard.

You found out where meat came from and you never ate it again, you were 8 years old.

Your favorite sound was ripping paper, by the time you turned 1 we had no books left.

You knew the name of every superhero ever created, you were 3.

In kindergarten you won district for writing a story about your favorite superhero, your dad.

You wanted a dog so bad you cried, you named her Muggles.

You showed me your muscles every morning and asked me if they’d grown.

Her name was Stormy; she was your first crush.

Her name was Summer, she always tried to kiss you, you said it was disgusting.

You were devastated when they broke your Lego dinosaur and I found myself yelling at 5 year olds.

You had a job fixing doors, just like daddy.

Your first word, Baba, which is Arabic for dad.

I never put you down and was worried that you couldn’t crawl.

I took you to play in the leaves, they scared you to death.

Your holding a peace sign in almost every picture I have of you.
You got into the refrigerator, you broke all the eggs onto the floor quickly followed by a chocolate pie, syrup, and butter….the floor was carpeted.

You flushed everything down the toilet and giggled as it swirled out of sight.

You climbed up the bookshelf and tried to fly like Peter Pan.

You had RSV, I’ve never been so scared. I held you against me all night crying.

You yelled at a boy in your class for using a hole punch on leaves, it almost made you cry.

You loved your third grade teacher so much that for an entire year you went to visit her every Friday when she became too ill to teach. You played games and read to each other. She told me that you were special, that she had never met a child as kind and intelligent as you... they all say that.

You would always throw dirt all over yourself, dumping it in handfuls over the top of your head.

We laid in the grass, making pictures out of clouds.

We lay by the river reading to one another all day long in the warm sunshine.

We go on grand adventures on our bikes together, you documenting nature with a camera.

You chased the ducks wanting to pet them but ran away crying when they got too close.

You stood there, ready for your first day of school, smiling like it was the best day of your life, my heart was breaking inside.

You told me that you hated money and wished that you never had to see it again.

You stood up for all the kids who were made fun of.

At lunch you sit with the kids who eat alone, the ones you thought most needed friends.

You wanted to give all your allowance to hurricane Katrina victims.

The news broke your heart, we got rid of TV.

The earth found a true champion in you, I’ve never seen anyone love her more.

You were a crazy child who couldn’t sit still for 5 seconds.

You had a blood curdling scream that drove everyone nuts, I loved it.

You whispered in my ear, telling me that we’d always be best friends.

I couldn’t get you to stop peeing outside.

Sometimes you’re so sensitive that everything brings you to tears.

You built towers just to knock them down.

You refused to take your Superman cape off.

You never missed Elmo’s World.

You always make me smile, even on the worst of days.

You’re my best friend.

I believe you’ll save the world someday.
You make wishes on every dandelion you see.

The neighbor boy steps on snails, I’ve never seen you so mad before.

You cry when you think of people destroying the planet, you tell me that you can feel it suffering.

You can’t understand why people eat meat, you judge them harshly.

We played Pokémon everyday that summer, you had to win, if you lost, you cried.

You are an amazing writer, so eloquent and beautiful.

You are an artist in everything you do.

You decided that you wanted to be a girl because you believed boys to be mean and selfish.

The rain just stopped, you run outside and begin collecting snails in your hands and gently placing them back into the grass.

Other boys want to play war games, you can’t figure out why.

You refuse to cut your nails.

You refuse to cut your hair.

We play Monopoly, you try to quit before you lose.

You can’t help but to tell the truth.

You’d put yourself into timeout if you thought you’d done something wrong, even at 4 years old you had a very strong sense of what was right and wrong.

I play you Billy Joel, placing earphones on my tummy, you dance.

I tell my life story to you, all my hopes and fears, dreams and aspirations, even in the womb you’re my best friend.

We tape ourselves singing together, we can’t stop laughing.

You love choir you drive the teacher crazy.

All the girls at school love you and do anything to be near you, you’re completely oblivious to this.

Your best friend moves away, we’re not allowed to say his name, it makes you cry.

I listen to your heartbeat; it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

In the nursery, they call you peanut.

Daddy stays up all night holding you, he never wants to put you down. You don’t sleep through the night until you’re almost a year old.

You tell me it’s like everything around you is yelling at you, grabbing for your attention. You cry, you tell me you want to be like a normal kid, we cry together.

You tell me that as soon as you grow up and get big, you’ll marry me.
Your hair grows long and you tell me that you hate material things; you wish you never had to buy anything ever again.

Muggles and you fall asleep curled up together every night.

I tell you that you were right, you were having a brother. I’ve never seen you so happy.

During every sharing time at school you talk about how unethical it is to eat meat and hunt.

You lecture about recycling and pollution. You beg people to ride bikes, you’re in 5th grade.

You choose to attend a fur protest for your 11th birthday.

I’m afraid that you’re too grown-up for your own good; you are such an old soul.

Animals are drawn to you, they sense your peaceful spirit, we all do.

Sometimes you’re too passionate, it clouds your judgment but it also makes you, you.

You’re helplessly loyal.

I learn something from you every day, you’ve been one of my greatest teachers.

I’ve never seen such selflessness; you’d give the cloths off your back.

I beg you to stop giving all your toys away and then feel bad because I know that you’re a better person that me.

You adore foreign music and films.

You still ask me to tuck you in every night, it makes my heart happy.

You walk across Salt Lake protesting for the child soldiers in Uganda. You tell me that you need to support other children, you’re 9.

You always root for the underdog.

You stay up all night long, playing with your new kitten. I can hear you through the wall, laughing.

You hug trees.
You start a recycling program in our neighborhood, you’re 8.

You’re a 10 year old existentialist.

I tucked you in, you sneak out the window. I get a call from the neighbors telling me that you’re playing in the sprinkles, you’re 4.

I feel unworthy to be your mother, secretly I know that you have more to teach me than I do you.

For my Beautiful Boy