It was yesterday that I held you in my arms for the first time, remarking at your hefty weight. Other babies of ours have weighed more at birth, but for some reason I’ll always remember you as the heaviest, as the most solid.

Wasn’t it yesterday that I was ordering your first birthday cake? That I took that picture of you joyously swinging over to the Baskin Robbins to have it made?

And it must have been yesterday that you were sucking your thumb while cradling your blankie and your ever-present fuzzy ball (cotton ball). There are probably still fuzzy balls stuck behind couches in homes all over Potomac.

Wasn’t it yesterday that we boarded that plane for Israel, and that you stayed up for 10 hours, falling asleep as we were about to land?

And wasn’t it just yesterday when we put you into the Maon (daycare) without a word of Hebrew. And you simply waved, smiled, and took the plunge?

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Who are you, this beautiful blond 11 year old?

Who are you, this basketball loving, Bnei Akiva devoted young man with the fearless love of sledding and other crazy adventures?

Who are you, this boy who shares my shoe size?

And where did you take the years?

I catch glimpses of the little you at times, in the way that you entertain your younger brothers, in the sensitivity that you show to my emotions, in the cuddles that you still accept…sometimes.

But then the glimpse is gone, and the growing young man remains.

I can’t imagine where 11 years have gone, how quickly each day dissolves into the next.

Today, I hold my memories of the little you tight to the chest as I dream about your tomorrows and look to your boundlessly open future.