It’s 5:34 am, my eyes fly open, my heart is racing, and I jump out of bed as quietly as possible, I quickly go down the hall to his room, the entire time praying “please be here, please be ok, please be breathing, please be breathing, please, please.” I open the door and go to his bed. The little snore I hear is a thing of beauty. Pure and absolute joy to a mother’s ears. I stand with tears of relief pouring down my face. Oh how I love him, my son Scotty.
This man-child of mine, my first baby, my 6’2” 300lb 16-year old teenager with a child’s heart, a love for history, sketching, and storytelling and a fear of becoming an adult is fighting a battle that is insidious.
Please be breathing, please…