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When did we stop hugging goodbye?

Judah Abraham Penn is five years, one month, and twenty six days old; and we don’t hug goodbye anymore.

Without warning, without mourning, today he just waved.

I read a poem recently by Mia Friedman that broke my heart and shattered my soul. She says:

‘Being the mother of a son is like someone braking up with you very slowly…what definitely wasn’t in the brochure is the way you don’t only parent one child. You have: a newborn, a baby, a toddler, a pre-schooler, a primary age kid, a preteen, an adolescent, a full blown teen, a young adult, and then an adult. And they all answer to the same name and they all call you mom. You never notice the inflection point where one morphs into the next. You never get to properly say goodbye…’

So here it is, my farewell to you little Judah. Little boy who hugs goodbye. Little smooch-me-on-the-face boy, last-touch boy, mommy’s boy. I love you so so much and I miss you already.

I can’t believe we’re done with that already. Heck I can’t believe you can walk and talk and use the toilet!

But I am also so proud of you. You have overcome so much and you’re still just smiling and playing and laughing with new boys whom you’ve known exactly five minutes.

Well done my little soul-mate child. No longer a baby, but always my baby. Golden curls long forgotten now replaced with just barely ash blonde spikes.

You made me a mom Judah, thank you for choosing me

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