Tonight, my little family made our way to the airport to pick up my not-so-young man-cub. Text messages were going back and forth as we approached the airport thanks to the delayed flight coming in on time. “I’m wearing a sweater and blue shorts.” he reports from the curbside mob, “Door 3.” YaYa writes back, “Look for the blue car with the big black dog.”
My eyes sift through the mob of travelers as we come around the corner. Finally, I eye a talk, dark, and handsome young man. It’s my son, my man-cub, my BoBo — all grown up.