A boy, 20 years old, walks up the gangway at the Omaha airport. Wearing a white T shirt and jean jacket, he is broad shouldered, grisly looking, with a scruffy beard and dark hair, longish and curling beneath his cap.
I turn to my long time friend and say, "There he is, that's Kyle!" "No," she says. "That can't be him!"
Kyle, my son, gone for 6 months. Home again, and now a man.
