Yesterday my oldest son turned nineteen and once again I am wondering where the time has gone. I look at my son and now instead of that sweet smooth skin I see that he needs to shave. I look at his hands and see not sweet dimples but the rough hands of a man complete with tatoos. I hear not the sweet piping voice calling for his "mommy" but the deep timbre of the word "mom". The days of sweet smelling baby powder are gone, replaced by the smell of cologne. I am crazy in love with this man - child but I do wish I could go back for one day and snuggle that sweet infant in my arms, hold those precious hands, watch those precarious first steps and look into those big brown eyes that loved me like no other.
He says turning nineteen was hard. He has no idea.
