Moving On

Went into Rojo's room two nights ago and there on his mini-trampoline, lying face down, was a framed picture of him at age two. Actually it's one of those frames with places for three pictures, and it captures him in rapid succession being all two - darling. Not a lot to love about him at that age, but I have always loved those three shots, because they remind me that although my memory tells me he was nothing but a pain-in-the-ass, he did have his moments. Three of them are captured for all eternity.

When I asked Rojo why he took the frame off the wall, he just said, "I didn't want it up there anymore." I took it down to live in the basement with all the other things we have framed and don't want on the walls anymore.

Yesterday I walked into his room and all but two of the framed pictures of himself that have been on his dresser for years, were turned towards the wall. The two that remained facing forward, was a darling picture of his godparents, Tom and Nancy, and a Bible verse my mom gave him when he got baptized in April. The ones now facing the wall were all of him as a baby or toddler. I turned them around again, just to see what he'd do. Sure enough, went in his room this morning and those same ones were turned towards the wall again.

I asked him, "Why do you keep turning the pictures of you around?"

"I'm sick to death of them," he said.

In all these years he's never said boo about what he wants his room to look like, what he wants on the walls, what kind of comforter cover he wants, what color the walls should be, the arrangement of the furniture, nothing. It's as though he's now looking around his space with different eyes, teenage eyes, growing up eyes, moving on eyes. And with tears in mine, I took all the smaller pictures down to the basement, too, and closed that door.