One fabulous Thinker

  My Dearest Son, This morning, something happened that brought me to my knees. I need to write this down while my heart is still so whole it might burst—not just so I remember it, but so that one day, when you're older, you can read this and know the exact moment your mama realized you were growing into the man God created you to be. You're only ten years old, baby. Ten. I came to you with medicine in hand, ready to treat that little scar on your face—the one you got when you and your brother were playing and things got a little too wild. You remember that day. A toy thrown in the heat of the moment, boys being boys, and then blood and tears, and my heart sinking as I realized it was going to leave a mark. I've been trying to fade it ever since, worrying over it, wishing I could erase that split second that changed your face forever. I said, "I need to put some medicine on that scar on your face." You looked up at me with those beautiful eyes and said, simply, ...