They started coming after my mother died.

Large yellow envelopes angled against the doorway; too large and packed, too full to fit inside our mailbox.

The New Yorker, invitations to upcoming events, and financial papers. And the solicitations from dozens of organizations they contributed to. I had no idea.

There was so much mail – equal parts overwhelming and comforting; I felt as if I was sitting with my Mom and Dad, sifting through it all.
I looked forward to the yellow envelopes.

After a few months, they started to come less frequently. The envelopes became less full. The large yellow envelopes replaced by smaller ones.

Today I drove up and there was a small yellow envelope in the mailbox. It occurred to me that I hadn’t received one in weeks. This one held four items. A coupon, two subscription reminders, and a random magazine.

That was it. At some point the mail just stops coming. I miss the mail.

I love Sh-he-ch-ya-nu moments.

It was ever so subtle, almost gone before I really noticed it. In an instant, my son Noah was separate from me. It was a profound moment.I was watching him play baseball. Noah, who had sat on the bench for three years, was on the field.

Craig had always been able to cheer the team on even while our son was on the sidelines. I had tried to be supportive, but my heart was heavy as if a piece of it were sitting on that bench alongside Noah.Noah was ‘our first pancake’ as Mrs. DeJong, his teacher, told me when he was in the first grade. There’s always the first, when the griddle isn’t quite ready. Noah went to the beat of his own drum – did things at his own pace – didn’t follow the crowd.

Today I watched Noah, our senior, playing second base. Not just playing, but playing well with his team – his team. Noah was completely in charge of Noah – playing, catching, throwing, bunting, running. He was his own man.

The coach gave him the game ball. I guess we did our job. He has his own journey.

She-he-che-ya-nu Ve-kee-ya-manu Ve-hi-gee-ya-nu Laz-man Ha-zeh
Dear God, thank you for supporting, protecting and bringing us to this day.

Louise Taubman is an educator and mother of two.