When I was 20, I married the boy of my dreams. When I was 22 I had his baby.
We were young and idealistic and well, stupid. We had all kinds of ideas of how life would be and who our child would become.
I dreamed he would be kind of nerdy like me. He would love to read and he would hate violence and guns. I prayed he would be kind and loving and relentlessly compassionate.
My son, was born sweet and absolutely loved. He grew up not loving to read so much, but crazy about guns. I have no idea how he ended up to be so different from me.
My husband says, it is my fault. I consciously raised him to be his own person and I willfully, made the choice to stand back and let him discover his own passions and dreams, encouraged it even.
He and I are so vastly opposite in almost every way, except that he, like me, has a spirit that is unquenchable and a love for life and family that is never ending. He is indeed kind and compassionate and he is fiercely protective and fiercely passionate about country, God, and those he loves.
On July 1st, my baby had his first baby, my granddaughter.
In so many ways our son is exactly the child we hoped him to be and in so many ways, he is more than we ever dreamed.
I wonder what his daughter will be become.