The 2nd of October 1974 at 3:59 a.m. EST, my son came into the world, all 8 lbs., 1 1/2 oz. of him. My only son. And what a treasure. Today he is 44 years old. I’ve taken a brief look back on what I was doing, how I was managing through my life and who I was at 44 (divorced mother of two, working and going to college full-time). He seems to have a much better handle on life, its foibles, its trappings, its joys, than I had at that age. And I’m incredibly happy for him. He takes life seriously but is the first to cut loose with a joke if the mood calls for it. He understands the concept of cause and effect, of working hard today for a better tomorrow, especially on behalf of his family. I don’t think I can take much credit for his outlook on life. I think perhaps much of that is inherent in who is he at his core. He is the first person I would call if there were an emergency or if I desperately needed to speak to an intelligent, stable person (and I often do). To say I am proud of who he is today would be a gross understatement. He has given me the grandchild I’ve longed for lo these many years and she is the true light of my life… all love, hugs and kisses and none of the stern words, teaching moments or discipline. My sweet and lovely daughter-in-law played a very large part as well 🙂 .. I am grateful to them both. Happy Birthday, my son. Love, Mom.
On February 25, I will write a little something about my beautiful, intelligent daughter… her birthday.