while you were sleeping

I peeked back, as we raced on forward, world whipping by at 75 miles an hour, and there you were... sound asleep. I was thankful your eyes had given up the scenery for rest... and couldn't resist dragging the camera from my purse. Sleeping boys make Mamas think. And dream. And remember.
The scar on your cheek, that has been there since day 2. I thought it would fade.  But it hasn't... not in four thousand nine hundred-something days.  And speaking of a million days... five thousand days ago?  I wasn't sure how I would love a boy... a son.  But from the instant I held you, I knew that God had taken care of all of those fears.  All those, and more.
While you were sleeping, my mind raced through the last few summers.  The days we've spent apart... the adventures you've experienced on your own... how much you have grown.  Oh, you have grown.  From stocky little boy to a stretched out young man... and with every inch your body has grown, so has my love. 
Four thousand nine hundred-something days later... and I wonder how I could have ever wondered how to love a boy... and I'm so thankful you've taught me things I never knew I never knew.