He is tall and slender this man child who is now sharing my home. He has eyes that are deep and bright; open to a world of possibility like his father's. His eyelashes are long and thick - a phenomenon that you cannot take your own eyes from unless you remember the one before him with the same lashes.
His books and legos comingle on his bedroom floor with dirty, mismatched socks and pages torn from his sketch book.
His father is at sea. He has been gone from us for too many months, too many days and too many minutes but more importantly too many moments in time that could not be shared. He will be back a learned sailor, tired and - dare I say it? - cranky. Elated to be with his family, but remote at first I fear. The boy will understand and ask little, happy to bask in the glow of his fathers physical presence and wait for the fatique of battle to fade.
I hold my breath til these tawny haired twins, father now gone bald, and son hair down his back and in his eyes, are together in one room again. I will look from one to the other and remember with wonder when my son was a tall and slender man child. I will look from one to the other with wonder that I could be so richly blessed twice in one lifetime. I will look from one to the other and I will give thanks.
