Dimples

He's tenderness and rough, pressed together 'til pure sweetness oozes. Those dimples melt me every time. And now with those two front teeth missing... well, I'm a puddle of joyful mess.

My baby boy, who still finds my lap daily. Holds my thumb, contented... a habit since birth, seven years ago.

Endless energy in motion. Endless creativity spilling forth.
An urgency to run and create so powerful that you must, or you'll burst.

But when did maturity begin to show in his eyes?
How is it possible that my infant boy now dreams big dreams of serving our great God?
He was just in my arms, so small...

You tip toe down the steps and ask, "Can I cuddle with you until Daddy gets home from his meeting?"

And, how can I say no?

For a persistent reminder weighs on my heart... these years to come will certainly be a blur of motion, just like the seven beautiful past.