Whining, Wine-ing & Winning

Somewhere between MEE-GOs on the floor and hoodies on every chair… you turned thirteen.

Now the answers get shorter, the distance grows, and I’m pretty sure every sweatshirt you own is permanently attached to your body.

You walk ahead of me now (sometimes sprinting).

You carry things I used to carry.

You don’t need help the way you used to — at least you pretend you don’t.

And even though you aren’t always under my roof, you are never outside my heart.

I hope you always know:

You are stronger than you think.

Your kindness matters — and will keep growing stronger.

Character matters more than popularity.

And no matter how tall you get… you will always be my boy.

You don’t just hear music — you feel it.

When you pick up a guitar, the whole vibe changes.

And the way you draw… the way you turn a blank page into something outrageous… has amazed me since you were little.

Your talent is incredible, but what makes me proud isn’t just what you create — it’s the whole heart you pour into it.

You see the world differently,

and it is more beautiful because you do.

Living part-time with you means empty Ding Dong wrappers and Pepsi bottles, mysterious smells, and one-word answers.

But it also means watching you grow into someone thoughtful, protective, creative, and quietly strong.

Whether you are here or away, Xbox-ing upstairs or texting one-word replies, you are loved in a way that never takes breaks, never divides, and never leaves.

I may not carry you in my arms anymore,

but I carry you in every piece of my heart.

Love you always,

Mom