missing my boy

I talked with Christopher on Sunday and it was wonderful. He sounded happy and grounded. I know that he can charm a lollipop from a baby, but I can't help being pulled in. My Christopher is smart, beautiful, and kind. I struggle with why things turned out this way so far. I struggle with loving him like a mother, and not being his mother. I struggle with wanting more for him, than he wants for himself. I know without a doubt that I believe in him more than any other person on this earth. From the day I saw him, I knew he was supposed to be a warrior in God's army. The first time I saw Christopher he must not have been older than five, and he was wild looking. He had a ring of red around his mouth from nose to chin of chapped lips. He was wild and sweet looking all at the same time. It was obvious that he did not have a Beaver Cleaver life style. I got in the car after that first encounter and at my ripe old age of eighteen, I cried for him, my heart grew for him. I know we were supposed to leave Utah in part to let him free. I find myself this morning however, wishing that we were together. I want him to be talking my ear off about the car he thinks is cool, or some crazy trick he did on his snowboard. I miss his laugh, and how he got scared during power outages. I love how he is afraid of roller-coasters and yet not afraid to jump of a 10 foot cornice. I love how after I made a dinner he liked he would stick out his skinny belly and say he was fat. I love how he would cover his butt going up the stairs because he knew Jason, the girls, or I might pinch it, (Yes we are a butt pinching family). I love how he tells his friends that he loves them when he gets off the phone and makes them say it back to him. He is a funny boy, my Christopher, and I miss him terribly.