I feel weird today. My oldest son is twenty today and it's the first time one of my children is having a birthday and I can't give him a hug or tell him how much he means to me... face to face anyway. I wrote him a nice email and used big shiny letters across the top line that screamed Happy Birthday, son! He is in Kenya serving a mission for our church. Ten months out now. But I don't find myself marking down the days. Life is good for him, for us here at home, and we press on.
Back in the day I used to set the egg timer "so that mommy can get a few things done while you take a short break from talking, and look at books instead." But it would be cool to talk to him today. I remember the two of us hanging out in our little L.A. apartment while my husband was in graduate school. P and I became close because he was my first and he allowed me my mistakes as I was learning this whole motherhood thing. He was affectionate (still is) and even would run up to me in jr. high when I was there for PTA business and give me a bear hug. It would be cool to hug him today. "Mommy, can I marry you when I grow up?"
I like the way he always puts his chin on top of my head when he stands behind me. He is tall in more than just the physical way. He is growing on the inside so much that in the next 14 months he may burst. He has taught me things, because he is smarter than me on many levels.
I love him and he loves me back. He is showing my picture around as he talks to people about making changes in their lives. He is proud of me and I reciprocate, gladly. I like him as a person, not because I have to, but because of the adult he is becoming. He is my hope for future happiness as I watch him become a man.