I did not give him permission to do this. He did not ask me for my opinion. Who does he think he is, this little boy turned teen-ager, become man? Not only did he get twenty-one years older, but so did I. The funniest thing about that whole deal-i-oh is that... I don't look it! HA!
I suppose parents have been coming up against this whole children growing up/growing older thing for quite a while, now, and I am nowhere near the front of the line with this non-phenomenon... but I feel so odd about it all just the same. After having been present for each big event and ordinary day in his life, every fall and scrape and broken heart, each exciting first time at something new... how is it that I still marvel at the young man of 21 before me? I have watched him all this time - every day of his beautiful, aggravating, excrutiating, elating, death-defying, non-plus-ing life, and it still seems as if I blinked somewhere between toddler and now - missing the lightening fast transformation.
I know I didn't. I am keenly aware of being here for every minute. After all, I have been the one constant in his life all this time. Every waking/sleeping/working/lazing/yelling/crying/laughing/traveling/explorative/horrific/proud moment. I wouldn't have had it any other way.
Maybe I am more surprised I haven't accidentally killed or lost him before now. Like a pet turtle, or a puppy in the yard who see's an open gate and simply runs, forgetting to come back.
Thank you for letting me be your parent, Brian. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your life all of this time (even if you really didn't have much of a choice in the whole matter). I just want you to know I will always be here, too. But I have a sneaky feeling you sort of knew that, huh?
Happy Birthday, my little boy. I am so very proud of you, and love you very much.
Now please, pick up your room and open the window to air it out, will ya? :^)
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