Never just a wave goodbye

Nathan was three when I taught him the hand sign for 'I love you.' He was young enough to still have difficulty holding down his fingers, like small children frequently have when you ask how old they are, and it was sweet to watch his determined effort as he guided one hand with the other. Sometimes he couldn't remember which fingers to use to make the sign, awkwardly holding down too many fingers or not enough. Eventually he mastered the technique and it has been his signature goodbye to me ever since.

When he started middle school, I was a little worried he'd forfeit the habit for the sake of reputation. If other mothers are like me, they've just spent the morning getting everyone else ready, orchestrating an oftentimes miraculous dispatch of people who didn't even want to get out of bed, leaving little time to change out of pajamas, let alone brush hair or put on makeup. If you're 12, acknowledging the crazy lady who just dropped you off at the door of your school isn't very shrewd. "Her? No. She was just going my way."

This morning I tried to be sneaky and take his picture when he shot me the sign. Maybe it's because he's going to be a teenager soon, but I've felt a need to capture these moments that melt my heart. Of course I wasn't fast enough and this moment redo happened at my request. He gave me an "Aww, Mom" look and then didn't look at the camera, hoping my antics would just be over soon. I know there will be moments that come in these next few years that will have a similar poignancy for me. However there is something about life's transitions that conjure up nostalgia and the need to hold on, even briefly, to what is being left behind. So I'm glad he was a good sport and played along for my sake.

I love you too Nate.