I love to see the big, beautiful, strapping men that the wild boys have become. I remember my teens, my twenties, even my thirtees — I may have seen them as boys. Older boys. Big boys. Now, in their forties, I see them, and they are men. M.E.N. They are rugged. Their arms, their shoulders, their hands – all big and strong. Lines are chiseled in their faces. They are fathers. They are dads. They are grandfathers. They are husbands. They are lovers. They are friends. They are men of men. M.E.N. I love who they have become.
One Response to “The wild boys, Part II”
This is for this post and the previous post. It is nice to have memories of people then to see them grown up. Wish you could have learned more about them but sometimes things are better left alone so you can keep your fond memories.
