April 20, 2019
There
is a man in my kitchen.
I’m taking my morning swig of ice cold Diet Coke, bleary eyed, opening the blinds, when a man’s voice startles me from the doorway. I jump. Drew just laughs.
All he said was good morning.
But last night he sounded like a boy, didn’t he? Wasn’t he a foot shorter then? Now he sounds like he should have a Marlboro hanging out of his mouth and a cup of coffee in his hand as he looks DOWN at me from this new, overnight height.
He shares his sister’s intelligence and has a capacity for math that must come from reading box scores and ESPN crawlers since infancy.
I’m taking my morning swig of ice cold Diet Coke, bleary eyed, opening the blinds, when a man’s voice startles me from the doorway. I jump. Drew just laughs.
All he said was good morning.
But last night he sounded like a boy, didn’t he? Wasn’t he a foot shorter then? Now he sounds like he should have a Marlboro hanging out of his mouth and a cup of coffee in his hand as he looks DOWN at me from this new, overnight height.
He shares his sister’s intelligence and has a capacity for math that must come from reading box scores and ESPN crawlers since infancy.
Like his Papa, he bleeds maroon, and has spoken the language of athletics since
his speaking began. He was four years
old and not yet literate when he was recounting scores on television to a family friend. “You know, I can’t read,” he
said nonchalantly, his blue eyes sparkling. He wasn’t much older when attending
a press conference after a Bears game and then MSU coach Cuonzo Martin asked if
there were any more questions.
Unflinching, the young, budding sports reporter raised his hand. All heads turned as Drew, who may or may not
have even been in grade school yet, asked his question. It was legit. Around
that same time, a little pal of his was beside him at the kitchen counter when
Drew was flipping through the channels.
SpongeBob appeared on the screen, and Drew’s friend quickly informed him
he wasn’t allowed to watch SpongeBob (incidentally, one of Drew’s first words
was “SpongePants,” which speaks to my stellar parenting skills). Without missing a beat, Drew soldiered on
through the channels, asking, “Can you watch the St. Louis Cardinals?”
But
it’s his heart that makes mine swell most: it is an expanse of sensitivity and
compassion that is and always has been uniquely Drew. Even when his room looks
like a crime scene, or when he is meeting every obligation of school and intense
competitive baseball, or he binge watches Netflix in his few spare moments, he
is an absolute champ.
He
will get bigger—physically, emotionally, intellectually. And hurrah for that! But
today, on his 14th birthday, with his deep voice, looming stature,
and big grin, he’s still my boy.
