When Julian was about 3, I mentioned to him that one day, he would be too big for me to pick up. We talked about how I had never realized the exact day that was going to be the last time I was able to lift his Auntie and his Mama, and how I was sorry I hadn't. "You'll ALWAYS be able to pick me up, Gaga" was his reply, and I told him that I was sure that wasn't the case, but that as he grew, we would be able to tell that day was actually coming. We would make note of it. Over the next four years we talked about it a lot, especially as he needed carrying less and less. But still, especially in the morning when he was waking up or at the bus stop, where there is a high brick wall, I would occasionally lift him and in the most theatrical of tones, groan loudly about how big he was and maybe this really was the last time I'd ever pick him up. Every once in a while I'd ask, "Do you think I can still lift you? Could I carry you? Should I try?" He always said, "Yes, yes, and yes," and I would, and I could.
March 12, 2020 was the last time Julian slept here. March 13th was the last day I took him to the bus stop. Did I lift him that day? Did he want me to put him on the brick wall? I don't know. All I know is that I have never lifted him since. I've barely seen him. If pressed, I'd probably guess that after seeing him approximately 350 times a year for seven years, I've seen him 40 times since last March. I've not cooked him a meal, read him a book, ironed a pair of school pants. I've not played hide and seek, or run through a spelling drill, or been to a basketball game.
If I had known on March 12th what lay ahead, I would have lingered longer as I rubbed his head dry after his bath. I would have held on tighter after wrapping him in his bathrobe, or read one more page of Harry Potter. I would have sung "Dream A Little Dream Of Me" all the way through just one more time at bedtime. I would have made sure that I picked him up, and that we talked about maybe this really was the last time.
I saw Julian today. We were both wearing masks and I just put my arm around his shoulder. He's almost my height. He wears a size 12 in some clothes. And I feel certain, so horribly certain, that I'll never pick him up again.
