the nest

Holt came home from football practice tonight (Okay, let's just give you a minute to absorb that. Holt. Playing football. As my mom said, "Holt could be the football) and he was completely eaten up with sadness. The shoulders-shaking, drool-forming kind of crying. I wrapped him up in his comforter in the bed and tried to find the right things to say about a subject I am clueless on. Boys.

He is playing in the 5 and 6 year old flag league. Next year he would move up to tackle. Tackle. As in, you can weigh up to eighty pounds and sit on my kid. It will be a small miracle if he breaks forty by his seventh birthday.

He's one of three quarterbacks on the team. I know, you need another moment here. Just remember, quarterbacks aren't the biggest guys on the team, they're the smartest. Yes, that was really revolting of me to say.

He managed to explain to me that he was doing a "fake right" (I think. I could be making that up. Whatever he said, it was a foreign language) and he swung around and escaped the first "dude", but that two other members of the scrimmaging team managed to come at him from opposite sides making a Holt Sandwich. Flag football. Right. I don't think, No, I know, that this is the very first time my son has been the meat between two pieces of bread and I also know that it won't be the last time. Man, that's hard. There are so many things about having a son I am not prepared for.

What upset him wasn't being at the bottom of this sweaty mess. On the way back to the huddle, boys from his team told him to not run straight into the pile next time. Apparently, they didn't see the sandwich being made, just the end result on the plate. It was like a punch in the gut.

I'm not here to tell you all the wonderful words of wisdom I gave him because I'm sure I was pretty lame. It's just that I think this is some kind of landmark for me. I wasn't even there and I think I've just tasted a little bit of letting go. A little bit of life. Sigh.

Birch came to me later and let me know that he'd been a man from the moment he got flattened until the moment I laid down with him in his bunk. That he had gone there to wait for me. That I wasn't just the Mama Bird, I was the nest. Wow. What a privilege it is to be his soft place to fall. And since we live in a fallen world, I'm gonna need all the feathers I can find.