Every Mother’s Son

You look at him and see a man.

The world could try to force him to use those muscles, that strength, that prowess, and go off to war. There he would be expected to kill and maim and mindlessly obey those who want to use his beautiful body to do their bidding. All those things I taught him not to do as he was growing up.

I helped him learn to think, to be compassionate and rational. I wanted him to decide for himself what is right and what is wrong. I wanted him to ponder all those gray areas in between too. I stood behind him when some so-called teachers were angry because of his questions. What truth is real that cannot stand up to the questions of a growing boy? Or even a man when it comes right down to it?

Now he thinks on his own, much better than I could ever have taught him and I am so proud of him. He is even stronger and more resilient than he was as a young athlete, but more than that, he is formidable because he is whole.

You see a man. I see a heart and spirit so beautiful it makes me cry with joy. I still see the noble three year old who stood there, legs apart, challenging the world with absolute faith in himself. Not fearless, not even then, I could see that lower lip tremble, but brave, brave beyond comprehension. Ready to stand up for what he believed in, no matter what. That is frightening.

You look at him and see a man. I look at him and see the baby I would die to protect, the person I love so much I helped him open doors that could take him from me forever. Yet, we cannot open doors that are not there and one must have the tools to face his own destiny. Love offers nothing less.

I guess I see the man too.