Until tomorrow.

There is something about him right now, today, that makes it hurt a little bit to breathe.
I mean, I am not sad that my baby is growing up.  God, I’m glad he is.
But those freckles.  Those toes.  The cheeks and the chin and the filthy fingernails.
His eyes.  The way he holds his glass.  The way he says the word wish.
The way he shows numbers with his fingers.  The way he pees on everything perpendicular, like a dog.  The way crawls onto my lap mike mercury, melts into whatever space there is.
His soft skin.  All of him.  Every inch.
This is it.
Until tomorrow.