The day that signifies that my baby is no longer a baby but now a man has arrived. The last 18 years were spent preparing him for this day. He’s an adult. He’s now allowed to vote and fight for his country. The decisions he makes going forward are his.
I can’t help but wonder if I’ve taught him everything I should have to prepare him for the responsibilities that are now his. Lord knows I tried. What I failed to teach him, life has. He was forged through the fire of life and loss before he held a diploma and came out on the other side, not unscathed, but undeterred because he wasn’t in the fire alone.
I can’t remember the exact time he was born. It was after three a.m., that much I know, but he was an emergency delivery and what I remember about that hour was looking at his dad, who was worried about me, and saying to him “Go check on Weston.” My first instinct was to make sure that he was ok. Through all that he’s been through in his 18 years, making sure he was happy, confident in the love we had for him and protected from the ugliness that was out of his control was my heart’s desire.
I couldn’t protect him from everything, but he and I have a Father that stood with us in the
inferno with His wings lovingly wrapped around us.
Because of that protection, this guy is full of life, dreams and ambitions and watching them unfold is a joy that is indescribable. Being his mother is the highest honor and most undeserved blessing, and I do not worry about his future. He’s going to do amazing things.
Happy 18th Birthday, Pop! You may be a man now, but you’ll always be my baby! Sing, dance, laugh, live, feel all there is to feel, love BIG, work hard, give everything you’ve got to what your heart leads you to, see everyone and everything around you, believe in something bigger than yourself and fly, baby boy! His wings will fly with you, and I will ALWAYS be here.
