He is my son

He was walking toward me at the airport.  Even from a distance too far to see his face, I knew it was him.  Shoulders back, lean and muscular build, creased khaki's and a starched button down shirt.  His stride carries an air of confidence that I am proud of, yet envy.  

I am always thrilled to see him, and can't wait to get my arms around him.  But this time... his walk toward me became slow motion as I remembered a little boy with a skater haircut running toward me with arms up.  I see a child jumping up and down with excitement to get his first puppy.  I see a boy who was proud when he became taller than his mom.  As I watch him continue to walk toward me, I remember the day he received his acceptance letter for college, the day he moved out of state, and the day he told me he was going to be a father.  

First day of Kindergarten.
Note the hair elastic on his right wrist.  Ever the dad!

My son is a now a man.  He has taken every speed bump and turned it into excellence. His career is on fire, and he is climbing the corporate ladder with a vengeance.  He is the most amazing father I've ever known.  He juggles life, and makes it look easy.  

As he gets closer to me, I see that Hollywood smile of his.  This man is always smiling.  I quickly think to myself that not coincidentally, his daughters are always happy.  Lucky girls to have this Daddy.

He reaches me and I finally get to wrap my arms around this man.  I want to hold on, and savor this moment forever.  I want to tell him all the things I'm thinking but instead I look up and say, "I'm so happy to see you, Son."  He takes my bags like the gentleman he is, and we turn to walk together.  This person who long ago first made me a mother is now a thriving, self sufficient, incredibly handsome man with a family of his own.  

So proud to call him Son.

Seeking Shalom & smiling,  ~Shugie