Cleaning Out His Boyhood

RemembeRED 's writing prompt this week is Cleaning House

 I dumped the contents of the plastic drawers onto the floor and it landed in a heap. I pushed at the pile, moving GI Joe, Scooby-Doo and Justice League figurines aside. My son’s childhood was spread before me in a disorderly colorful plastic mound. He had played with these little toys for hours—for years. But he was fourteen now and hadn’t touched a GI Joe in quite awhile.

I picked one up. It had blonde hair, just like my Austin. I moved the GI Joe’s arms and legs knowing I couldn’t manipulate my son like that. He was fiercely independent and as much as I disliked butting heads with him, I admired his tenacity. It would serve him well one day.

 I rummaged through the pile and there amidst the mass was a small, GJ Joe-sized football. Austin had pretended his GI Joe’s were Football Players but they lacked a football. I purchased some of that baking clay and molded a tiny football then baked it in the oven and painted it brown with white stripes and lines. His sparkling blue eyes and “Thanks Mommy” had been the only approval I needed. I lovingly stroked its smoothness before placing it in a baggie along with the other small accessories.

These were toys that represented a part of my son’s life…his boyhood, but he was growing up now and didn’t need GI Joe’s to entertain him anymore. He had his Ipod, Basketball hoop, bicycle and friends, and soon there would be girlfriends.

I put the remaining GI Joe’s into the baggie and zipped it up, wiping a tear from my eye when I was done. This shouldn’t have made me feel so sad. It was the end of one phase and the beginning of another.

But my heart still felt heavy.