(To my son, Trey Biddy)
Holding you for the first time, I knew one day I’d have to let you go – but just not today.
When you took your fist steps, I knew they were the first of many that would one day lead you down your own path – but just not today.
Your first sleepover that I wasn’t called to pick you up in the middle of the night, I knew you would one day find your independence – just not today.
Delivering you to school on your first day in a back pack almost bigger than you and full of anything you would need to survive, I knew one day you would need your friends more than I – just not today.
With every milestone I knew the day was coming, when you would take a journey carved by many tears and smiles from those who love you most, and I would have to watch you go – just not today.
I knew there would come a day that I would face a special kind of storm that I would want to hold you back just one more time, to keep you here under my diligent watch and protection a little longer – and we both know that day is just not today.