He was preparing in his mind all weekend for the big question. I had mentioned Saturday that maybe he should consider a small gift. When he asked me about it Sunday, it was like he was trying to create the perfect atmosphere.
My boy has always been the romantic. I fondly remember when he was three and grabbed me to slow dance under the reflecto-balls at Spencer's Gifts. We glistened in prom-like magic right next to the edible panties aisle.
Last evening, he asked again whether he should give a gift and I told him I had something in mind, a shiny silver cuff bracelet from when I was a kid. Amongst all the trinkets, he found a bracelet from a few years ago that he liked better. It's a single strand of elastic with shiny, watery, light teal, clear, irregular beads.
(I'd always thought my glittery stuff would be fun with a daughter. Now I realize there's a great use with my son.)
After that, he prepared his clothes for today. Mind you, he never plans his wardrobe. All is thrown on, often straight from the dryer. He was specific for this. No long sleeves. No collar. I found a Carnival t-shirt that says Cool Daddy O, secretly hoping for the not-so-subliminal message to do its thing, and he liked that.
This morning, he dressed in his black jeans and weathered yellow T, found the bracelet where the cats had carted it off, gave me a big, meaningful hug, and headed into the big world, which he is facing head on and on his own terms.
The apron strings are going sooner than I expected!