Snapshots, heart stops

My daughter wanted to develope her film from cheer camp last week. We took her roll and two other rolls left over from vacation and events. As we are flipping through the pictures, one catches my eye. It was one taken of my husband and my son after dinner one night on Grayton Beach. My eyes were drawn to the face of my son. My heart flew back to the cotton topped toddler, full of words, activity and love. I remember his chocolate colored eyes with his golden skin. Chubby legs with brown toes sticking out of his shoes. This picture touched my heart, for I see the face of a man standing beside his father. I see a tall, lean, soft spoken, slow to speak, gentleman that is my son. The hair has grown darker. His eyes set deeper from manhood shaping his face. Height the same as the older of the two. I see a man who I've learned I can trust. I can see him working hours on tying up his play trucks. Playing cars by the poolside willing to share. Jumping into the water where he learned how to swim. Building castles and napping as the wind lapped the umbrella. Hugging my neck as we walked on the sand. Reaching up to ask me to hold his hand. My eyes begin to mist as I know time has passed. His arm now much longer than mine he would hold. The beach much the same as the picture was taken. I now have a young man, for my son. The snapshot taken without much of thought, brought memories and tenderness. I simply had to stop and look and remember.