There has always been a stigmata about the number thirteen. To me, it’s just another number. It means nothing. To some, it represents bad luck.
Thirteen years ago, I was blessed with a baby boy. A baby boy that I was terrified to be responsible for. A baby boy that I thought for SURE would turn out just like me. A baby boy that stole my heart with his very first breath.
So much has happened in his short thirteen years. He’s been through A LOT, seen A LOT, and is still fighting every day to be what he knows how to be. I’m proud of everything he has accomplished and even more proud that he’s made it out unharmed and smarter for it. He is an amazing young man.
His bike broke, and he was real sad he couldn’t ride around with his friends. So, Mom to the rescue. I bought him some brand new wheels. And he rode it ALL weekend.
I love that he loves to ride.
Happy Birthday to my teenager.