Dear Jakey

Headstrong
You and your long arms
Listing lazily
On the cusp of your teens

But you were my Jakey
And when you needed saving
I could just grab you
By the nape of your neck

There are times life will rattle your bones
And will bend your limbs
But you're still far and away the boy you've ever been

So you bend back and shake at the frame
Oh the frame you made
But don't you shake alone
Please Jakey, come home

- The Decemberists, Dear Avery

A few tears were shed on my run tonight, are still being shed. And I have my privacy because J is out being a boy with his friends on this, his 18th birthday. So can cry if I want to. The process of letting go has been a long one, and it continues. I thought this morning of the chaos he was born into, his mother having passed out in the bed and concerned doctors and family everywhere. I remember how he would never let me snuggle him before bed as a baby - he would give me the straight arm and demand to be put in his crib where he would fall asleep immediately, stroking his wisp of hair. And the nights after the divorce where he would refuse to let me leave his room, insisting that I was going to leave him. And now he's the one leaving, as it should be, one bit at a time.