To Johan on the Occasion of Your 11th Birthday:
My beautiful boy, you are a tween. Tween is that trendy word that gets thrown
around to describe people that aren’t little kids and aren’t quite teenagers. I
didn’t see the need for the word until you got there. But you really are in the in-between.
You used to want to snuggle for a long time before sleep;
now I sit on the edge of your bed and we talk and have a hug before I turn out
the light and wish you sweet dreams.
Then you say “ok, mom, BYE.”
You used to insist on raspberry jam for your bread; now you savor
high quality olive oil and cheese.
You used to sit in the back seat and get car sick; now you sit
next to me and we turn up the radio and sing along together.
You used to love Candyland; now you dominate board games
with rules more complicated than I’m willing to attempt.
You used to wish plane rides would just hurry up and be
over; now you enjoy the energy of getting ready for a morning flight and the
people-watching at the airport.
You used to tag along wherever I was going; now we are
keeping up with your calendar of sports and student council and school work and
friendships.
You used to be bored by all the political news; now you
cheer for a Staten Island congressional seat turning blue and for people of
color winning seats nationwide and for Senators demanding answers from an unfit
Supreme Court nominee.
I know it sometimes feels like I want you to stay little
forever. I do miss being able to scoop
you up and kiss your cheeks a thousand times a day. I loved little
boy Johan. But the in-between you is so
extraordinary that I truly wouldn’t change a thing.
This year you used technology to connect with your abuela in
the D.R. and created a beautiful family heritage project. You excelled in soccer, wowing other teams
with your jumps and dives to keep the ball from going in the net. You are in your final year of elementary
school and have been chosen as a leader among your classmates, representing
them on student council. You passionately
share issues of social justice with your peers.
Along with a few other children of color, you led your 5th
grade class in a discussion about the experiences of black and brown people
with the police.
This year you boarded a catamaran in the Pacific Ocean and,
waves splashing against you, looked out for whales playing in the deep
blue. You navigated the streets of
Luquillo, with its roosters and barking dogs, to find beautiful art that now
hangs in our home. In Memphis, you
walked in the steps Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. to understand the Sanitation
Workers’ Strike and you stood where Elvis did in Sun Studios.
It has been a wonderful year, my beautiful boy. You
give me hope for our city, our country, our world. I cannot wait to see what
eleven brings. I love you on big days, and small days, and all the in-betweens.
Happy Palindrome Birthday.
Love, Mom
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