Thirtysomething

Thinking

I watch my baby as he sleeps in his crib. He is perfect, an angel. Impossible to think of him as anything but the light of our lives.

I think of my parents. My relationship with them has been troubled for almost as long as I can remember.

I weep for them, my parents. How many nights did they spend watching me sleep in my crib, unable to imagine what lay ahead?

posted by DJ Heavy D @ 5:40 AM