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The Things I'm Holding Onto.

Dec 18, 2025

2 min read

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Beckett is 8.5. Brooks is almost 10. And suddenly, I feel it — that quiet shift. The one no one announces. The one that just shows up one day and whispers, this part is fleeting.


This video you’re watching — Beckett and me sitting side by side, drawing — that’s one of the things I’m holding onto. Drawing has been our thing since he could fist-grip a crayon. I’m not an artist. He very much is. But somehow, the table always feels like the right place to land together.


It’s never really been about the art. It's about sitting still in a world that moves fast. About being next to each other without needing an agenda. About letting the moment be enough.


And it’s not just drawing. It's baking cookies together — flour everywhere, butter on the counter, someone always sneaking chocolate chips before they’re supposed to. It’s driveway sports, where the chalk lines magically become the net and the rules change depending on who’s winning. It’s writing thank-you notes together, sounding out words, crossing things out, and reminding them that taking the time to say thank you still matters.


It’s reading at night — even though they don’t need me to anymore. Even though they could read on their own. I stay. I read. I wait until their breathing slows and their eyes finally close before quietly slipping out.


And sometimes — not all the time, but enough — one of them still reaches for my hand.

That’s the part that gets me. I know this season won’t last forever. I know independence is coming, and it should. I want them brave and confident and strong and ready for the world. But right now, they’re still here. Still little enough to sit beside me. Still willing to share these small, ordinary moments that end up meaning everything.


So I’m holding on. Not by forcing it. Not by freezing time. But by showing up. By saying yes. By sitting down at the table, in the driveway, on the bed at night — wherever they are.


Because one day, these moments will live only in memory. And I want to know I was fully there while they were happening.


smiles + SONshine,

SeaChelleB


Stay-at-home mom and her son drawing together at home, sharing a quiet creative moment and bonding through art
Just us, a blank page, and a moment I never want to forget.

Dec 18, 2025

2 min read

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