KARMA SPEAKS

JAKE

BY DENISE “KARMA” CLIFFORD

I can’t stop thinking about the time when I first held you in my arms and thought, I wonder what he will be when he grows up. I wonder if I’ll cry when he goes away to school on the bus. Will he learn how to drive And pass his drivers test at16? At 18, is he truly grown? And the thought of how far away the day is that he will turn 25, on the 25th. Why this even crossed my mind seems trivial. But I guess when you have just created life and are holding a precious gift in your arms, strange thoughts race through your brain. Like when he turns 25 on the 25th, what kind of man will he even be?

This small unique gift I held onto, looked intently at me, as if to study me. His eyes already seemed to have this strange sense of knowledge held within them. He cried at birth, when the nurses rushed him away to get weighed and wrap him, but honestly it felt like mere seconds, until he was clean, dry and wrapped and I was holding this content little thinker. Even his father asked me, “isn’t he supposed to be crying?” I probably replied with a sarcastic answer that went like “he must like us.” I was always good for those sarcastic comebacks, And in the last few years have realized my son has trumped me on that.

This old soul who I swear had things to say behind that intent look, yet just hadn’t learned to say them, was to me truly perfect. I was lucky to have this person in my life where I learned for the first time what unconditional love for someone was. Love and my own perception had been distorted. But oh, how I could feel love for this tiny little human, who seemed to already know his path. Strange as you may think, but even old ladies would stop me at the supermarket to tell me “oh, he has an

old soul.” I knew this, I always knew.

Watching the transition from helpless human, to small independent fast learner was one of the best things that have ever happened to me. I watched milestones like when my son was able to hold his bottle on his own. The day he began to eat real foods, and was able to choose what it was he liked. I was there to hear his first words, catch him as he learned to walk. I was there cheering him on. The best was when he learned to call out mamma, and realize that was me, and that I would respond to this word the most. Time seems to move so slowly, when the entire days are filled with nothing more than taking care of a small being. Yet here I am remembering them as if they are not even ¼ of space that occupies the memory on our phones. I still feel the helplessness of going all day without showering, or making myself look presentable, or even getting to go outside. I mean I stayed home, playing and feeding and changing the one thing that brought me such joy. Sometimes it felt like my life was useless, at a stand still and on hold, and for what? I mean, he learned to count, he learned his colors, he said please and thank you.

The days revolved and the only changes at times were the decorations I scotch taped to the windows. Did he even really know it was St Patrick’s day, or Valentine’s Day, Halloween or Thanksgiving? Did he even care about the big red hearts in the window, or the turkey hand cut outs I made with the outline of his fingers? In the end, these become my memories anyways, not his. His brain doesn’t keep these ones, it will pick And choose when he gets older, Just what he remembers. And it is not a fault or to be blamed, it just is.

“To my first born son, Jake. “One day, you’re gonna thank me.”

moments that I could. “One day you’ll thank me.” Is a phrase I’ve been saying for about 25 years. I don’t have many pictures And have no videos of my childhood. I wish I did, because just like my own son, my memory didn’t choose to keep those long ago sweet memories that I wished I still had. So, I wanted to have this for my son. child steps into life without thier mamma. Where a mom has to trust her child can do this, without her. Maybe that’s why I have come to dislike the color yellow. You did learn how to drive, how to adapt and how to make it without me. You are exactly what I had imagined 25 years ago. You are successful, smart, caring, sarcastic, and witty.

Sometimes I got lost in trying to save the moment for a memory, but you cannot look down upon this. I just needed to save the memory, they disappear so easily. And it seems the bad ones are the ones that take root most times. So, here we are as you turn 25, and I see exactly what you became, and it is not a surprise.

Yes, I did cry when you stepped up onto that giant school bus, with your brand new light up sneakers, your dark blue Hawaiian shirt, denim shorts and that huge backpack with your home address tagged to it. I took pictures so you would remember, because it’s something I will never forget. I don’t even know if you knew how much I cried that day. I blamed it on the new baby, but I cried because this was where I learned how to let go. The big yellow bus signifies the beginning of when a This is a mother’s best gift and worst nightmare all in one. I know at 25 you are grown, but I also know there is oh so much more growing to do. And that

I am still holding on to keeping those memories. You are still that old soul with so much knowledge behind those eyes. You are still showing me what it means to love, unconditionally, no matter what. You are still a memory that I want to keep, not just the bad ones that take root, but the ones we tend to let slip through the cracks. The ones we don’t think matter, but shape our mere existence. I want those ones too. I wish I could go back in time when they put you in my arms, and I could slow the time down. I wish I had today’s knowledge on the day we met. I wouldn’t have cared so much about the rules, or the bedtime. I wouldn’t have cared about the candy you weren’t supposed to have, or the time you spent on video games. I would have kept you for myself, a little bit longer. I would have stopped taking pictures and videos to enjoy the moment that my memory would never retain. I would have kept you home more often or even home schooled. I would have kept you as a child Just a little bit longer, until I was ready to let you go...until I was ready.

To my first born son, Jake. “One day, you’re gonna thank me.” Happy 25th on the 25th. Love, mom 2/25/2022