They Do

This year has been a year full of changes for Gregory.

Among other things, it is the first year that I have not either walked him to school or driven him to and from school. He has never taken the bus.

Until this year.

He gets on the bus less than 1/2 a block from our front door. When school first started, suffering from separation anxiety (me, not him), I would walk him down the 1/2 block to where he stands for the bus. "Mom, you don't have to walk down with me. You can save your energy and wait on the porch. I'm o.k.", (his nice way of telling me the other 3 friends that wait with him didn't have their parents standing there and he didn't want his either!)

I waited on the porch. I sat in the red rocking chair or swung gently on the white porch swing. Talking to him (1/2 block away) so he wouldn't feel alone. "Mom, you don't have to talk to me from the porch. I know you are there without hearing you, I'm o.k.".

The weather turned cold. I would bundle up in my coat, boots, hat and gloves and stand on the porch. Waiting for the bus to come around the corner and him to get on. "Mom, you don't have to stand outside. It's too cold. The bus comes right after I leave the house, I'm o.k.".

I have been sitting on the second step on the stair landing. Watching out the second story window.

I can see him leave the house, walk down the path, and wait for the bus right by the pole. I can see the bus come down the side street, turn, stop and pick him and the other 3 little kids up. I have been here every morning since the weather turned cold and I was told I didn't need to be outside and he was o.k. He doesn't even know about this secret place.

Or so I thought.

This morning I hugged and kissed him at the door and off he shuttled down the steps. I closed the door behind him and crept up to my secret place. There I sat in the still of the dark, quiet house. I could see him. Kicking up the snow around him. Adjusting his backpack. Then he turned. My direction. Picked up his little arm and waved. A smile across his little face. He knew I was there. He has known I was there all this time. He had known, and yet not acknowledged my presence until today.

We may think our children are not paying attention. We may think they do not not know we are there.

They do.

They feel it. They know it. They find comfort in it. Even if they do not acknowledge it. Even if you feel like they don't notice. Even if you feel like they don't care.

They do.

I will be back on my step tomorrow morning, and anywhere else I need to be for the rest of my life......watching, loving, protecting, and just being there.