Jacob

He’s older.  He’s a teenager.  He doesn’t care for me snapping pictures of him.  Yet there are images in my mind that I want to remember.  I want to remember his big smile as he jumped out of the car to go to the dance with his friends on Saturday night.  Then an even bigger smile the next morning as he talked of a girl from the dance.  I want to remember his serious face as he is rubbing his hair and reading a book.  I don’t know how many times I have went up to his room with that bright afternoon light streaming in his window, and him enthralled in a book as he is propped up in his bed.  I want to remember his sweet smile that is mixed with tired eyes and a mop of wet hair as I pick him up from swim practice.  As he hops in the van, he is always in the process of thanking me for picking him up.  He is the child that is always quick with a thank you.  I want to remember the confidence and twinkle in his eye after he conquers a piece on the piano and wants to know what I think of his song.  I give just a bit of praise and that twinkle in his eye and smile on his face sure gets brighter.

I need more pictures of my boy, but for now these reminders will have to do.