The Last Day


To my Dearest Little Man, 

The day has finally come where we part ways. You, to "Izz-ee-uhl" (Israel) and me to home. How this day has come so fast, I have no idea. But that's what they say about time, it flies when you're having fun. And you and me little guy? We certainly have a lot of fun.

From hide and seek, to somersaults in the hallway, to "kick kick" (soccer class), to making pretend potions in Central Park, to learning what sounds all the animals make (which to my surprise, are not the same in Hebrew as they are in English), to taking rides on the bus, to drawing you a thousand and one pictures of airplanes, to filling countless water balloons up to go "pop it outside", to looking through every single picture there ever was of you on my phone, to dancing to our favorite songs, etc. 

It's absolutely absurd to also look back and realize you were once a tiny little squishy blob of a babe when I first met you, because you are now the most intelligent little gentleman I've ever known. But even though you've grown so incredibly fast, it's even crazier to look back on the last two years of my life and imagine there ever being a time before that when you weren't in it. 

You have lit up my life in more ways than you could ever know, Mister Man. 

From your ability to charm your way out of any situation. Like whenever I'm eating my own food and you bat those little eyes at me, hold up your tiny little finger at me, and proceed to say "one" as if you're trying to bargain with me to just give you at least a little piece instead of nothing. Or when you decide that the cutest way to count is obviously "Onnneee, twooooo, fiiiiive, TEN!" instead of the more wildly recognized way. Or that you'll deny me a hug goodbye at the end of the day until I'm almost halfway out the door before you yell "Hug, kiss, okay adios amigo". Or when you find the plastic toy onion and point to your eyes because you know that's what makes them water. Or just the fact that there simply isn't any other little boy in the world who can rock it like you.


But besides just the insanely cute things you do, you've also taught me so much about myself. Patience, nurturing instincts, perseverance (like when you boycotted sleep for the first three months of me attempting to curb your no-nap-ninja tendencies), calmness, creativity (because there are only so many times one can read The Very Hungry Caterpillar the same way over and over again without losing one's mind), and most of all: unconditional love.

Because, while I was obviously never your parent, and you were never actually my child, I still always always always loved you just as unconditionally. On your worst days, on my worst days, and for every day from here on out. 

It hasn't quite hit me yet, though, that I'll never again get to say "See you tomorrow" to your tiny little face. It hasn't settled into my soul at all whatsoever that if I ever want to get your toddler-sized lovable hugs, I'll have to fly halfway around the world. It hasn't become real yet that the eight hours we spend together every day has for real come to and end. And all of that has quite honestly hit my like a tow truck, a cement mixer, and a garbage truck combined (because those are your three favorites after all). This is, without a doubt, the absolute hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life thus far. 

But I'm glad it's hard now. I'm glad I have tears streaming down my face. Because that just means it's been the most amazing ride up until now. If it wasn't hard than it didn't mean as much. And you mean more to me than I could ever possibly put into words.

You are my greatest joy and my greatest pride and I thank you from the bottom of my beating heart for being the angel that you are, because for two years of my life, I didn't have a job, I just had a best friend. 

It's not goodbye, it's see you later alligator. 

With all my love, Little Guy. 

Image Map