William, come over here so I can take your picture.
Okay Mom. Do you want me to look fierce?
Yes. Look fierce.
I had to put my camera down to look at this little boy, just eight years old, trying to look fierce. And I smiled.
He looks so little.
Fuzzy hair glowing in the sun.
Freckles dancing across his face.
Little belly still sticking out farther than his chest.
Often now, I see unmistakable signs that he is growing up. Soon he will be a young man, and not my little boy.
But the little boy is still here. If only for a short time, he is still here.