Nowdays, there are constant reminders that I'm living with a pre-teen. Namely, the non-chalant attitude, the acting cool and what feels sometimes like a growing distance between me and my son.
Tuesday night was his winter band concert. This is his second year of band.
Last year, when he made his big debut, I remember vividly his scanning the audience for my face and, upon spotting it, the unsure little smile and look that said, "I'm going to do OK, right mom?"
It brought tears to my eyes.
This year, he once again scanned the audience for my face. I was glued to his. When he spotted me, he smiled, and then proceeded to mouth the words, "What are you looking at?"
It wasn't malicious. More like a "I've got to make sure everyone knows I'm too cool for mom" kind of thing.
I hated it.
And I have days where he'll say things that are really only said so that I know he doesn't need me.
I hate that too.
I had tears in my eyes Tuesday night, too.
But only after he accidentally let his guard down for a few seconds after the concert, and actually curled his young fingers in mine.
He held my hand for all of two seconds, but it felt like forever.
In those two seconds, we didn't have a world of distance between us.