A little piece of poetic prose to start each month uplifted.
Summer is over. I swear they don't even look like this anymore.
His first set of school shirts are hanging up in his wardrobe already, white like first snow (for now at least). He has grown this summer, a seedling watered and fed under the sun for what feels like forever. Now he's all elbows and knees, buttons and collars, trousers and ties - and cheekbones too. It's bittersweet for all of us. An unknown, yet exciting; this is what I'm telling him while a part of me aches, wishes I was better at patience, wishes I could keep him with me for longer.