Random Thoughts

There are many ways in which I hope that my boy does not follow in my footsteps. I do not want him to have such a visceral outlook on life. To survey his surroundings in terms of possible threats and impromptu weapons, sizing up everyone as a possible opponent and how to neutralize them. Or to have so many rough edges, be so cynical. Suspicious. He has my temper already... There are times when I look at him, into him and fear for his future, this wonderful boy who still likes to sit in my lap. Who says I am his hero. And I pray. Hard. And try. Just as hard. To show him something else. Something better. My Dad was and still is my hero. He raised me, this former Special Ops sniper, by himself. God Bless him. Wanted me to go SEAL Team. Special Forces. He looked into me and feared, himself, for the little boy who liked to sit in his lap, whose hero he was. This man who raised me 'One Shot One Kill' always had a hug for me. This man who watched God knows how many heads come apart in his scope did A good job.