By Jennifer JennyMac McCarthy 
It’s the little things, seemingly inconsequential tasks, that suddenly lead to bigger revelations.
My youngest son is 15, and during the fall months last year, he started wearing adult small T-shirts and tops. I did not think much of it at the time because he still had some youth-sized (large and extra large) clothing that fit. But the other day, I came into my room and noticed a pile of discarded T-shirts on my bed.
“These are all too small for me now,” he told me when I questioned him.
As I was refolding the items, I noticed they were all the youth T-shirts. I held one up and thought about how much my son has grown in the last six months. He’s officially in adult sizes now.
My middle son was more than happy to hand down some of the outgrown smalls from his wardrobe, and then this realization hit me: my youngest is the last size small in the house. His brothers both wear mediums, and my husband prefers large T-shirts. So now this boy is the final one to pass through size small, evolving from child to young man, following in the steps of his brothers. But when did the little small become a big small?
I thought about when the boys were younger, and “small” clothing was sized for ages 6 to 8 or when they were toddlers and wore the 2T-5T sizes. I recalled even before that, when they were clad in the “month” delineation of clothing—onesies, sleepers, and all the cute baby things. They have passed through so many sizes over the course of their growing up. In the attic is a box of outfits I have saved from the various stages—the keepsakes I just can’t part with—every size relating to the milestones of growing up. But now, there are only a few sizes left.
These big boys who traipse through my house used to be little. Their hands used to be tiny and fit entirely into mine; my lap could hold two boys at once. Was it so long ago that I could hoist a boy onto my hip and carry him around? When did I stop looking down into their eyes, instead of parallel or upward into their faces? Where did all these big shoes come from? I used to hear little raspy voices echoing through the house, and now the sounds are much different. When did the little boys become men? Time is fast and slow, tangible and elusive, all at the same time.
But I remember when small was actually small. My house is full of photographs that capture moments in time, memories from all the stages and sizes of childhood. These images make me smile, every day. And as I am comforted by recollections, I also enjoy looking forward to what lies ahead.
The last days of preschool have evolved into the first days of college. Learning to ride a bike paved the way for driving a car. Snuggles on the couch following bathtime have been replaced with goodnight hugs after a shower and shave. The little boys have been replaced by taller, broader, stronger, grown-up versions of themselves. And that’s when a size small becomes big.
The progression of life is unstoppable—once an era is gone, it cannot be repeated. What has become outgrown will never fit again. And as the last remaining “kids” size is discarded like the final vestiges of childhood, we are left with mere remnants: a box of selected treasures, picture frames filled with frozen moments, and a heart bursting with memories. So for now, I will hang on to the last size small, just as long as I can.
by Mehr Piracha Lee 
by Sara Frank 
