I’ve always found shopping for shoes with my two young boys to be a hectic experience, one that I usually delay until the very last week before the school year begins. I often find myself begging and bargaining with them to try on shoes, only to hear their loud complaints about fit, discomfort, or pesky tags.
This past August was no exception to the back-to-school ritual. Max, my oldest, had his heart set on gray shoes, while Oliver, my youngest, was determined to find blue shoes that lit up. As we searched for sizes, it hit us that Max no longer fit into youth sizes.
With a sympathetic smile, the saleslady remarked, “Mom, I think he’s in men’s sizes now.” Max lit up with pride, while I fought back tears, grappling with the bittersweet realization of how fast my boys were growing up. That evening, as I tucked him in with his favorite blanket, I reflected on countless shoe shopping trips, feeling a mix of nostalgia and pride at how much easier the process had become.
Max didn’t speak until he was four years old, and our initial worry was confirmed with an autism diagnosis. Days were spent shuttling him to various therapies, fueled by a desperate hope for progress. The advancements felt minuscule, like a grain of sand compared to the vastness of the beach. I was determined to reach the next goal, repeating to myself, “If I can just get him there.” Then we welcomed our second son, Oliver, who also received an autism diagnosis. This meant double the therapy, worry, and aspirations, and we became consumed by these incremental victories.
Over time, we began to see more significant changes. Max started to communicate and was later placed in a gifted program at his school. As therapy sessions dwindled and I began to appreciate my surroundings, a sense of regret crept in. I had been so focused on milestones that I overlooked the magical moments unfolding in front of me. It felt as if we had been on a beach, building a sandcastle with only a few grains, unaware of the expansive shore around us. I resolved to embrace mindful parenting, cherishing each moment and looking beyond the handful of sand.
The strange thing about milestones is how quickly they become routine. Once Max was able to talk, the hours spent driving him to therapy faded from memory, replaced by trips to tennis lessons and track practices. This became our new normal, a cycle of life that continuously shifts like an hourglass.
Eight months into the school year, Max approached me, saying his shoes were too small. I glanced down at the gray shoes he had selected, noticing small holes where his toes were beginning to poke through. A few nights later, we went to the shoe store, just the two of us. He picked out a few styles, and I grabbed boxes in the next size up.
However, he struggled to fit them on his feet, and soon realized he needed an even larger size. Sitting on the bench surrounded by Nikes, Asics, and Mizunos, I truly saw him for the first time as an articulate young man, his feet larger than mine.
As we made our way to the checkout, Max chatted animatedly about who knows what, while the store swirled around me. The cashier exclaimed, “Oh! Big boy shoes!” Max beamed with pride, while I fought back tears, feeling the ground shift beneath me as if the hourglass of his life had shattered.
When did this all happen? Was it last month? Last year? Or last August, standing at the edge of the men’s aisle? Had it been two months ago when we applied to the middle school that would lead him to high school and then college? The elusive passage of time has me questioning everything.
We’ve all heard the phrase “don’t blink.” I’ve read countless articles on mindful parenting and tried to savor every moment, yet the harder I strive to slow time down, the faster it races ahead. Each time I pause to capture a snapshot of our life, I’m pulled back into the minutiae of daily life.
When did it all change? Was it when he climbed out of his crib? Or when he started dressing himself? As I replay the movie of his life, I see big gaps in my memory that I can’t seem to fill. The everyday moments I want to cherish slip away, lost in a sea of emotion.
This journey is undeniably bittersweet. I look at Max with immense pride, feeling my heart shatter into countless tiny pieces—like sand scattered far and wide, impossible to gather again. Those fragments, however, are now part of something greater, preparing us for future lessons of love.
For now, I’ll continue to cover him with his favorite blanket as he sleeps, filled with gratitude for the Augusts we still have together, and the vast shore of experiences still waiting to be explored.
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Summary
This heartfelt narrative reflects on the challenges and joys of parenting, particularly navigating milestones with children diagnosed with autism. It highlights the bittersweet nature of watching them grow, while emphasizing the importance of cherishing every moment amidst the chaos of daily life.