Nostolgia

When my son Chad was little, he said the cutest things. He once asked why his bald grandpa had "blind hair." Another time he put his sleeve up to his cheek after I kissed him and said, "Don't worry, Mom, I'm wiping off the wet, not the kiss."

I miss that little boy. What I would give to pull him in my lap and squeeze him.

Sometimes I go through old photographs or watch home videos of Chad and get a little choked up. Not because Chad is gone—he's living right here in my house with me—but because he's grown up now, a handsome young man of 19, and I hope to God I've done my job well.

I always knew that parenting was working myself out of a job, helping my kids to become independent and self-sufficient; but I didn't know how much it would hurt.