As my boys have grown up, I have been their barber. When they were young and not picky, I'd take out the clippers and cut their hair. Then once they hit their teenage years they would decide they wanted an actual hair style. So I would take them down to the salon and pass my hair cutting duties off to the stylist.
I would eventually hit the point in their life where with each hair cut, a little piece of the "boy" would be cut away leaving an older son in it's place.
This past week I went to San Antonio, Texas, to watch my oldest son graduate from Air Force basic training. I knew his hair would be cut short, if it existed at all. What I wasn't prepared for however is how the haircuts and my son's time spent in training would take what ever remnants of a boy that remained and meld him into a man.
So changed was my son that I almost didn't recognize him. If it wasn't for his piercing gray blue eyes, I'm sure I would of walked past him.
But I found him, dressed in blue, standing tall and true. He will always be my baby boy in my heart.