Sometimes, when I look at Cameron, I see flashes of myself. Not just in his smile or the way his eyes take in the world, but in the rhythm of his life – how times seem to have looped back, giving me another chance to see my younger self, only this time with more love surrounding the story.
I was born in 1971.
Cameron came along in 2011.
At 14, I was in high school, it was 1985, a mix of nerves, dreams, and figuring out who I was. Now, in 2025, he’s 14 and in high school too – going to football games, showing up for homecoming, finding his circle of friends, and slowly carving his place in the world.
His teachers guide him. His mama holds him down with love and wisdom. And I’m right here too, cheering, listening, reminding him of his light on the days when the world feels a little too heavy.
It breaks my heart sometimes knowing his father has been absent for nearly a decade. No child should have to wonder why someone doesn’t show up. But even in that space, Cameron shines. He has what I didn’t have: a village that sees him, believes in him, and shows up for him.
So, yes, Cameron is me reincarnated.
A reflection of who I was and who I wish I could have been. I am so grateful he’s got a Mama and a Muff (me) to remind him he’s never walking this life alone.
Life has a way of circling back, handing us pieces of ourselves in new form – softer, wiser, more hopeful. Watching Cameron grow reminds me that healing often shows up through those who come after us. They carry our laughter, our lessons, and even the parts we never got to express.
I see in him a chance for better days, brighter memories, and deeper love. That’s what legacy is, not the pain we endured, but the strength we pass forward.
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