I saw him being born. Later on, I saw peach fuzz on his adolescent chin.
A few years later, when he moved in with us, in New York City, I think he borrowed my razor.
Yesterday, I stood next to him at The Beacon Bar. I sipped a beer, he had something I never heard of.
I was close to him, as I always like to be. He’s a big guy and he’s 31 years old ( Oh, God, how time flies !)
I studied his face, thinking how much I love him. Then I saw them!
I Counted three. My boy had three gray whiskers on his cheek !
I don’t know what his thoughts were, but I felt ten years older. Some would say “that’s life”. That’s not what my words would be.

One response to “My Son’s Beard”
You are never prepared for your children to get “old”. That’s more aging than your own gray hair!
LikeLike