Men will be boys. Boys will be men.

    Late, on a florescent night in my memory, the bathroom light flickers in Mother's room.

Mother's sobs are heard, soggy, shameful, and in the darkness.

Thomas peeped his head out his bedroom door, and glanced towards the dark hallway. He could have sworn it looked back at him.

He swallowed his fright and scurried towards Mother's room, one foot in front of the other,

faster Tommy faster,

and down he went in one instant, a scaly hand latched to his ankle.

His stomach dropped faster than his elbows ever could.

He pulled back and kicked with all his 53 pounds and crawled furiously back to his feet. Run Tommy run, he scurried back to his bedroom. He blew past the white paneled door and hid beneath his blanket. Thomas could hardly catch his breath as his heart ached.

Wet sniffles and sobs echoed still.

Mother was still so sad.

He pushed the covers aside and put on his brave face. Once again he peeped his head out his bedroom door, blinked once, and sprinted to Mothers room.

faster Tommy faster,

into Mother's room he went.

He peeped his head through the doorway, and there she was, sitting cross legged on her bathroom floor, chest heaving, sobbing, photos spread in front of her.

"What's wrong Mommy?", he consoled.

She jumped at the sound of his voice and tried to cover up her shame for her son. She looked up into his sweet green eyes and almost bit her tongue as the words fell out of her mouth.

Tommy got down on his knees and wiped his Mother's tears,

"Don't cry Mommy", he smiled his crooked toothed smile.

"I love you", he said, and he understood what he meant.

And that was more than what could be said about his Father.

And sometimes boys will be men when they need to. And men will be boys when they want to.