Musings from Mama Bird
A full bladder nudged me out of a deep sleep yesterday morning at two, so I sent my son a text: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
He’s 20, his teens a thing of the past. In a way, this is good news. Great news. Long gone are the back talk, the fights with his sister, the not telling Mom where he’s really going. Now we have an adult relationship, one with mutual respect, long talks over coffee, and gratitude for me and his dad and the way we raised him and the sacrifices we made.
I will always miss the boy who lived at home for eighteen years, and the memories of his teenage angst are short. Actually, they’re all but gone.
When Ben was a baby and my daughter, Bridget, was four, I became friends with a woman fifteen years older than I. She told me then, enjoy every moment with them, and don’t blink because before you know it, those years will be gone. I’m glad I took her advice to heart; she was right, you know.
So Happy Birthday, Benny. I’m so very glad you were born, and grateful, more than you could ever know.
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