"Mirror,

mirror on the wall" is how this story starts.

I went upstairs

this morning to wake up our son for school. As I knelt by his bed I looked

at a sleeping face that seemed to be so calm and peaceful. That face was

not yet aware of the storm that was on the horizon. I did not wake him

right away. The face that I was looking at was not one of an 11-year-old

boy soon to be 12. No, this morning I saw another face.

Looking down

I saw the face of a newborn in the hospital and wondered how we were going

to pay for all the expenses of the birth with no insurance. How was I

to teach him all the things he needs to know about life in just 18 short

years?

I saw his mother

feeding him for the first time and the contentment that was on her face.

Looking at the child so small, I counted ten little fingers and ten little

toes and saw that he was perfect in every way. And I was thankful for

a healthy baby boy. But looking again in the mirror, something else was

reflecting back that day: a 29-year-old dad scared to death.

Looking down,

I saw the face of the four-year-old who cried when he fell off his tricycle

and smiled when he touched a walking stick for the first time. I smiled

with that little boy who chased ducks at Callaway Gardens and laughed

when a butterfly landed on his nose.

It was the

reflection of a happy five-year-old face that I saw on the floats as they

passed us that Fourth of July. (He saw all of the clowns from his seat

on Dad's shoulder that day.) Looking down again, I saw the face of the

six-year-old ninja who went trick-or-treating and ate too much candy and

the face of joy when that same boy rode his bike for the first time without

training wheels.

I saw the eight-year-old

boy who jumped his bike in the backyard. It was that same boy who slid

with his dad down a snow-covered hill for hours. I watched the smiling

face of the little boy chasing frogs down at the creek, catching his first

fish, shooting model rockets off, and getting straight A's on his report

card.

Yes, it was

that happy little boy that I saw sleeping this morning. And I'm thankful

that boy will have many happy memories of when he was growing up. But

I also saw something else. My little boy was growing up too fast.

Looking down,

I saw the face of a nine-year-old, beaming as he scored his first soccer

goal that crisp spring day. (We went camping three times that summer.)

He said, "Are there really bears in the North Georgia Mountains?"

I saw that little face turn white when I said, "Yes."

Excitement

filled that boy's eyes and joy filled my heart as he told all that he

had done for a week at aviation camp. And I was thankful that the money

was there to send him. It was the proud face of a ten-year-old that I

saw walking down the hallway of elementary school for the last time (he

was graduating from hallways that had seemed so big just five years earlier).

I saw terror on that face in the summer as we went whitewater rafting

for the first time. Terror soon turned to joy when he realized he was

not going to drown or fall into the raging river (Dad was the one who

fell in that day).

As I drove

away, it was nervousness I saw in the face of that 11-year-old walking

through the doors to his first middle school dance. Later that year the

storm came in the form of a divorce, and I saw big alligator tears on

that same face when he learned that dad and mom were no longer going to

be together. (I hope and pray that he will never see that look on his

son's face.)

I looked into

the mirror on the wall this morning but did not see the face of a 43-year-old

man looking back. Instead, the mirror reflected a face of another four-year-old

boy. I saw the boy who skipped rocks with his dad at the neighborhood

lake. I'm thankful that my Dad spent time with me when I was young.

I saw the tearful,

confused face of the five-year-old boy who walked through the cemetery

one fall day in '68. That little boy did not understand why his big brother

Richard would never be able to play ball with him again. Looking again

I saw the six-year-old who shined his Dad's Sunday shoes for 25 cents

a pair.

I saw a boy

who was measured on the hallway door every month just to see how much

he had grown. I looked again to see the eight-year-old who helped his

dad build the "Great Tree House" in the backyard (complete with

a rope swing and climbing knots).

I saw a Dad

teaching his son all about sawing, hammering, nailing and framing teaching

his son a trade. That little boy still uses those skills some 34 years

later. I'm thankful for that, Dad.

I looked in

the mirror and saw the nine-year-old hitting baseballs, throwing footballs,

and flying kites with his dad and three brothers. Looking again, I saw

a ten-year-old wrestling with his brothers almost everyday. Years later,

those brothers and that ten-year-old boy would win four high school state

wrestling championships between them. I'm thankful for a healthy body

and brothers who still love me.

I looked into

the mirror, and I saw the face of a 40-year-old man looking back. This

man, so long ago, had decided that one should live life and not just exist.

One should grab life with both hands and take a large bite out of it,

savoring every minute because life is so sweet, and so short. The man

in the mirror, somewhat worn for age, divorced with a son, had a decision

to make. Stay single or get married and start all over again?

Over the years,

I have learned what a wife and child really need and what they don't.

I know now that they do not need the big house, expensive cars or even

a lot of money. What they need is for me to spend time with them. They

just need me.

"Mirror,

mirror on the wall" is how this story ends. Looking into the mirror

this morning, I saw the face of a 43-year-old man looking back. The man

in the mirror got married again to a wonderful woman who is helping to

raise his boy and wants to have children of her own. This story does have

a fairy tale ending because I did marry a princess.

I'm thankful

most of all for my wife Becky; she was born on Thanksgiving Day. Happy

birthday, dear.

[Rick Ryckeley

is employed full-time by Fayette County Fire and Emergency Services. He

can be reached at [email protected] .]