This was absolutely the last time I was going to sit in this chair in this oh so familiar position. One arm automatically supporting his little back while feeling the soft cotton of his onesie. The other hand, caressing his silky blond hair.
His legs were now too long and his little feet kicked the arm of the chair and rubbed the chenille fabric as he drew out the milk.
I didn’t KNOW it was the last time.
My heart didn’t know.
My head didn’t know.
I thought maybe.
But I didn’t KNOW.
He didn’t know it either.
Of course not.
For the rest of that day I went about my usual routine, emptying the dishwasher, vacuuming the carpet, watching some television. I heard the familiar sound of the air conditioner clicking on and off, over and over, all the while my two boys running about the house making their little boy noises. Later, playing with their blocks and trucks and puzzles.
The three of us eventually escaped out the back door to blow bubbles. Laughing and squealing ensued as the sparkly spheres disappeared into the warm air, their small hands reaching for something that was no longer there. I smiled, marveling at the bright sun highlighting their lovely locks, wishing I had an internal recorder for their sweet voices.
Everyone went to bed that night peacefully. Bellies full.
The next day he never wanted it. I never offered.
The day after that, the same.
The following morning I stood at the kitchen sink looking out the window, the scent of freshly baked blueberry muffins wafting in the air and I realized it – we were done.
Now he would rather have a muffin to devour from the seat of his high chair. Today I would give him a cup
of milk to accompany it.
He’d moved on and now it was my turn. Part of me was SO ready but other parts were not. My heart part mostly.
That weekend we went out with friends and I shared with them that my baby was done nursing.
I explained how it just kind of happened and how I was still getting used to it.
I nudged my husband and gave a half smile as he spoke these most truthful words,
“She thought she wouldn’t miss it. She was wrong.”
Write a short piece – 600 words max – that begins with the words, “This was absolutely the last time” and ends with “She was wrong.”