Boyhood

I tapped my feet in the car. The air conditioner was a bit too cold, but I hadn't worked up the courage to say anything yet. I had a terrible night of sleep, being afraid I'd sleep through the alarm and miss this special day.
I was a boy, on a little adventure not too far from where I lived. I was with a man, my father's age. It was Christmas morning in August as he spent the whole day with me, asking questions, telling stories, and laughing!

I felt so special since he took a day to show me around places I had never seen and brought me lunch and bought me McDonald's and asked me questions and told me stories and it was just me and him.

 "Let's act cool and be excited today!" I told myself, not wanting to look nervous or awkward.

 We drove for a couple hours. I love the mountains. So full of life, they're so big they make you feel small and human, like you're not the boss anymore, but just an ant crawling by, unable to imagine what that mountain has seen and heard, felt and smelt in the last thousand years.

I kind of felt like that around my driver. A big man with large hands; much wider than mine, if not a hair shorter. I was young and small.

We trekked around several breathtaking lakes, took our swimsuits to the hot springs, and took the longer, scenic route home for the beautiful sights. He wasn't angry or worried that I slept through the best part, the reason he spent the extra gas, simply letting me sleep.

I was a boy for a day, feeling loved and accepted, as though someone enjoyed my company. I was 21 and this special day was today. The driver was a man from church, desiring to spend a day discipling me. The planner was Jesus, hoping to reconcile in me the incomplete Boyhood stage in my heart. I am a beloved and precious child.

Only now can I press on, hiking further up the difficult and wild, but worn and mapped out trail of becoming a man.