Growing Pains

      Cameron walked into Kindergarten today, on his own, for the first time. I pulled up to the awning, handed him his backpack and his lunchbox, kissed his cheek, and told him I loved him and hoped he had the best day. As I'm pulling away, he stood unphased with a smile on his face and waving. As he turned to walk inside, he yelled, "Hey dad!" I turned back to look, he waved and said, "I love you" and walked on inside.

     I lost it.

     So many times I have wondered what I could have done better or looked at all the things I have probably done wrong. And then I see him. I don't deserve him. He's the happiest, most energetic, polite, tender-hearted, intelligent little boy I have ever known. He is resilient beyond all compare. No matter what we or life have ever thrown at him, he waits, analyzes, and adjusts accordingly. I do not know how he does it. Everything to him is just another stride in life's walk. How I became the dad of this guy is beyond me. Of all of the people who deserved to have him as a son, I was chosen. It's not fair to him. Yet, every day, without fail, whether through words or actions or some memory of something that he has done or said in the past, I smile daily. He is the only thing I have ever done completely right, and most of that isn't even on me. It's as if he just knows that I need him to be so amazing because I fall so short, so often. I just want to hug him and apologize for not being as good as the the dad he deserves.

    I could tell him that. But he would just look at me, smile, and say, "That's ok dad. I love you." It's just how he is, and I never want to take that for granted.