May 12, 2007 @ 7:35 pm | Filed under: Jorge

Truly, it seems as though mere weeks have passed since Nate’s graduation last year and yet, here we are again.

Forty-nine weeks later, and only twenty short days before my baby - Jorge - makes that same stroll across the stage, shakes the principal’s hand, and claims that all-important diploma.

After the emotional upheaval of going through Nate’s graduation, his "last" summer at home, and then the drama of dropping him off at his college campus in August, I was sure that this time around I would be calm, cool, and collected.

After all, I was a professional mom of nearly grown young men now, wasn’t I?

Up until a few days ago, I was still convinced of this. And then Jorge finally made his college decision and for the first time I saw the shimmer of excitement in his eyes and heard the anticipation in his voice.

"They have a great art department, Mom." He looked at me almost as though he wanted my approval. I only nodded and smiled. Jorge’s artistic abilities are one of the many things I admire in him and - quite honestly - we have absolutely no idea where he inherited this talent. I’m convinced it’s surely just a God-thing.

Just last week I attended a local art show where some of his pottery pieces were on display. I couldn’t hide the grin of pure ‘ol plain pride as I ignored the sign and reached out to lightly finger the works of…my son. My quiet child, and by far the more introspective, Jorge constantly surprises me with the many talents that he modestly tries to keep well-hidden. 

While he’ll be majoring in psychology, I’m happy he’s planning to continue to foster his artisitic abilities. He in no way needs my approval to do so, but he certainly has it. I know of one college campus that is in for a real treat. He’s a great kid, with large dreams and the drive to make them come true.

Just this afternoon, I was going through a box of things that the boys had made for me over the years for Mother’s Day. I came across this framed poem from Jorge, dated 1996, when he was just seven years old. It reads:

Sometimes you get discouraged

because I am so small

and always leave my fingerprints

on furniture and walls.

But everyday I’m growing up,

and soon I’ll be so tall.

That all those little handprints

will be hard to recall.

So here’s my little handprint

I’ve so carefully made,

to help you recall

when I was so small.

I looked at the red handprint and traced the small fingers that had so carefully been dipped in paint and then pressed into the paper. How true this poem has proven to be. Everyday since then he grew a bit more each day. And now he’s six feet tall, facing high school graduation, and excitedly making college plans.

Oh, for those days of fingerprints on the walls…

But even though those days are behind us, each and every day he still leaves handprints on my heart.

And I don’t think he’ll ever grow too old for that.