Somewhere along the way my son grew up. Funny how that happens. One minute I was giving him a bottle and the next minute gas money. (Smiles) Years float by so lazily and melt, one into the other, so that you can’t quite remember when one ended and another began. I guess this is what we call life. Strange how the years unfold, a story is written, and you are along for the ride. You might guide and direct and even write a line or two. But the child is the author of this book, and only he or she can decide its ending.
Choose well, son, and let your conscience be your guide.