He's my skater boy..

Five foot, five inches
Brown eyes, each with a hint of trouble-maker glinting in the corner
A smile that would warm any heart
Tussled brown hair, falling in his eyes, obviously screaming for a trim
Worn, used to be black, faded jeans, resting slightly above his hips
Black over-sized sweatshirt, covering a ripped T-shirt with faded emblems on the back
Skateboard a permanent extension of his body it seems

One skater after the next ride...up the ramp...over the ledge, to land 4 feet below, hopefully with their feet firmly planted on their board. Not many, but some, land on the deck, then promptly lose their balance and end up flat on the ground. Most fall directly onto their tailbones, their backs, their boards, whatever, never making contact with the deck after leaving the ledge. They grumble, groan, mumble "bad words" sometimes, and skate back to the end of the line to try, try again. As I watch, he waits his turn. He gets into position, waiting, lip sucked in at one corner, body tense. Then, with a flick of the hair, he takes off running, drops his board next to him and jumps onto it in one smooth move, and up the ramp he goes. He nears the edge...his tongue sticks out slightly, a sign of intense concentration. He crouches, awaiting the moment of lift off...How he does it, I have no idea, but at the edge of the ledge, his feet and his skateboard dance. His hands fly up, like he's a bird, and they are his wings. His knees come damn near to his chest. The board flips, makes the correct rotations in the direction it's asked too, and before he even reaches the ground, his feet have reclaimed their position on the deck. The impact of the spinning wheels hitting cold cement under his body is almost to throw him off center, but he holds it. Sketchy or not, he has landed! A "Yeah, baby!" rings out, and a few boards are slammed on the ground in the customary celebration beat. Thump, thump, thump.... A huge grin spreads across his face as he smoothly glides, one with his board, back to his place in line. He looks over at me, pushing his hair out of his eyes for the millionth time that afternoon. "Did you see that? FINALLY! I landed it..I can't believe I landed it! Did you see it, Mom?"

Twelve years old and he holds my heart in the palm of his hand. I never knew what a "chest swelling with pride" meant until I had him. I also never knew that the Dragon Ball Z skateboard I bought him 4 Christmas' ago would birth such passion in him. He has ambitious dreams of being a pro-skater. Ambitious, I say, because there's 12.7 bazillion kids that have the same aspiration. The perfectionist in him gets so angry when he misses a trick. Some days are just bad days, some tricks are just over his head, technically...sometimes he's just expecting too much from himself & his surroundings. But whatever the case may be, he doesn't give up. I watched him take his turn at least 25 times yesterday before he could land that trick. Some of the other kids around said he was "dumb" for trying because it was too hard to do. And each of those times, my heart ached for him a bit more. His eyes were starting to get dark. His fists were clenched tightly closed. He'd sit down every few minutes, off to the side, and I thought for sure that was it, he was done. I saw his lips moving, silently yelling at himself. He was getting more and more irritated at himself, at his deck for not co-operating, at everything. But each time, he got back up, reclaimed his spot in line, and tackled the trick again...until success. Seeing his face after he finally landed was the fuel this mother's heart needed. My chest literally ached. I felt like the happiness & the pride had taken my breath away. Of course, can I show it? Nah....A smile and a "Way to go!" is all I can say. Anything more then that, he'd be embarrassed. On the way home later, when we are alone, I try to say I'm proud of him for never showing just how mad he was., that I was proud of him for never giving up. He just says "Pfft...Whatever....I wasn't mad."