Dear Leander

DEAR LEANDER,

Last week you turned twelve. For a second year, we celebrated our invented holiday, Birth-o-we’en – celebrating your Devil’s Night birthday (the 30th) and my favourite celebration of the year, Hallowe’en. Months ago, you asked me if you could have surprises this year for your birthday, so a night of supper at Gramma’s with your aunt, uncle and cousins and then an evening of bowling together came together, and you seemed to have a great time.

I feel that these days I can’t keep up with how fast you are growing up. This summer I told you how I could see that by Christmas you would be as tall as me, but then in September you grew an inch in thirteen days (a fluke that we had measured you and then measured everyone just shy of two weeks later to realize this surprising fact).

Your big brother Angus reached my height at Christmas last year. He was almost fourteen. It seems like ancient history now, the shorter-than-me Angus, replaced by this athletic, handsome teenager with a little acne, and a lot of changes. You are like many little brothers though, and seem hot-stitched to catch up. Reminds me of your cousins Dylan and Maverick who are both taller than their dad now – it kind of makes me giggle to think that my little brother is shorter than them now .... but then he’s still way taller than me, so I can’t laugh for long.

Your face is changing, slowly, and I can see it. Having worked with teenagers for so long I know what to watch for. First your nose grows, and then your brow bone, and then your eyebrows suddenly get darker and bolder, and for a brief second everything seems like it doesn’t match, and then poof, it does.

Two weeks ago you organized our attendance at Massey-vanier High School’s open house. You decided that perhaps you were reconsidering your attendance of your elementary school’s nifty grade seven program and perhaps head straight to high school. I trusted you. We went. Angus and I hung back (he found it rather unusual to find himself at school at night, but was happy with free juice and hot dogs). I watched you from behind as you made the rounds. You were serious, I could tell even without seeing your face. I could tell by how still you were standing. How your shoulders were raised a little. How you didn’t move very much. You were taking it all in, at each kiosk. Ten minutes in, you came to see me and said, “I’ve made my decision.” I was fairly confident I knew what that meant.

We toured the school, with the legendary English professor Pat Fontaine helming us around what still feels like a labyrinth for me. It was funny to see places that will become very familiar to you, that are still so strange and new to me. I was relieved that grade seven has its own little world, where no other grades are allowed to go. You seemed to like that too.

I wondered what concentration would interest you, and you decided that music was your thing. A recent obsession with the 90s sitcom Friends was part of the influence, as you told me you didn’t think you would become a ‘real musician’, but that maybe you could play music like Phoebe, and write a song like her Smelly Cat. I had to shake my head a little, but there have been far worse or overly lofty goals for grade seven, so I’ll just encourage you to run with it.

There is a while to go yet. You might change your mind, and shift to something else. I am attempting to avoid steering you – I’ve watched so many parents attempt that, and it’s a strange thing. I’d rather see you blossom, cheer you on, and help you when you need to make changes, rather than attempt to make decisions for you in this case.

When we left the school that beautiful fall evening, you stated that “The Viking gods had summoned you to Masseyvanier.” Then you said that no, “The llama gods had summoned the Viking gods to summon you to Massey-vanier.” I was unfamiliar with llama gods until that moment, and their superior caste to Viking gods, or even their communications, but I’ll take your word for it. We’re running with it, right?

Your nose is starting to change. You are the one shaking your head when I talk about that, mostly because your entire life I have taken you off-guard by congratulating you on growing such a nice nose when I was through with growing you myself. There was only so much I could do in nine months, and since then you’ve done great work.

Your eyelashes are suddenly really long, and really, really dark. Your feet are huge – 10 - and if your brother’s 13-wides are any indications, I’m going to have to buy shares in some shoe company somewhere. That shoe size thing must be why your gait has changed – you walk differently now too.

Twelve has always seemed like a big deal to me. Thirteen is a beginning of things, but twelve somehow seems like one of those windows. One of those growing years, between everything while things grow – and that is interesting to witness and stop whenever I can to observe. I’m a little worried that it will be like your baby times, and suddenly it will be behind me, and we will be somewhere else, where you are tall and your voice is different, and you are more independent in life. I feel like I’m already in that moment sometimes, wondering where twelve went and reaching back for it with my aching heart, just a little.

While there have been more tiring times, I have enjoyed absolutely everything so far, so I know when that moment in the future, in the now, in this spacetime loop comes, I will probably feel at home there with you too.

You are an interesting person, a creative soul, and you’re a little on the awkward side right now, but I feel like things will balance out, just like that rather excellent nose.

I’m enjoying all of this. Parenting is a job that you see the pay-off for, and is worth the effort, time, love, frustration and challenges. I see that intensely now, especially since the llama gods and Viking gods have pushed fast-forward a little, and high school looms on the horizon.

I would go anywhere with you. We will see so many moments, and every one will have something in it for us to think about and watch.

Thank you for all of this adventure, looking so forward to what is to come.

WITH MUM