“What the helllll!”, as we like to say in our best meme voices, “you’re ELEVEN!” Holy crap Cash. The only thing that makes it real to me is that we are nearly eye level. You are almost as tall as me and wear the same shoe size as me. That’s right, I borrowed your suede chukka boots the other day. But the biggest changes in your beingness — besides the pubertal changes you proudly announce — have been seismic social-emotional shifts. “It’s a sign he’s getting older,” Daddy says when I point out your restraint. Not nearly as goading with Grey or bred-in-the-bone as you have been in the past, nowadays you just let your little brother fizzle out without incitation.
Then there’s you and Lizzo. I’ll never forget what you said when we first brought her home. “She’s really mostly for Grey. He’s the one that wanted a dog so badly. I wanted a cat.” Not surprisingly, it wasn’t long before your love for Lizzo blossomed and your concern for her became a constant: “Is she hungry Mom? Is she gonna be okay being in her crate so long? I think Lizzo needs more water.” You’ve always been my “tootsie roll pop” — a bit of hard tack with a sweet soft center — who feels compassion for anything from a squished bug to the misfortunes of others around you. Being one of Lizzo’s caretakers is simply YOU leveling up.
It’s funny how all of a sudden we’ve transitioned over to some very grownish conversations. Topics like homelessness, racism, foreign affairs and inflation. Questions about drugs, serial killers, 9/11, afterlife, and even sex are not off limits. We also fake almost-curse when talking with each other, in a humorous way of course, saying things like “What the Ffffff!” and “Are you Ffffff kidding me?!” I have wondered at times what people would think about our conversations and interactions, whether they would find them inappropriate or not, but that thought is quickly replaced with gratitude for the space we’ve created; a non-judgmental zone where we can (and do!) talk about pretty much everything. Most of this is credited to you Cash. You’ve always been an open book, sharing what is on your heart and mind for as long as I can remember. And in the in-betweens we act stupid and brash until we need not be.
During my recent visit to see Pow Pow, I told him about your level of maturation. How I trust you completely and have for a long time now. Letting you walk to school on your own from the train station was a no brainer (I believe you could have done that two years ago), and knowing your capability in emergency situations gives me comfort; a city kid with street smarts and book smarts. I mean, you memorized my phone number and our complete address when you were four years old for crissakes!
While I was away you and I emailed back and forth several times a day. It was so “POG” (gamers word) to email cashmoneydavis10, fanning out over the latest dance trends, memes and TikToks by our favorite bulldog influencers.
You’ve had such a profound growth spurt this year that your bones are literally aching. This explosion in height was noticed by several parents and teachers on the first day of school: “Wow! Cash got SO TALL!” Even I find myself doing a double-take cartoon-shake when I look at you with so many physical changes in just one year’s time. But looking closely, I can still see that pudgy face and those dark brown button eyes. Somewhere behind the moaning and groaning of my favorite middle schooler is the little baby who brought me to tears every time I looked at him.
Happiest of birthdays Cash. May your Eleven be Heaven.
I love you. Always & forever, Mom