It’s hard to believe. That time of the year has come back around. It is my baby’s birthday. He’s not a baby, really. But that is besides the point. Eleven years ago, he came into the world wide-eyed. I will never forget that face and those eyes. I was immediately in love. And, I just wanted to squeeze him. On repeat. The first three months were a blur. At four months, I started to get out of the do-I-know-what-I’m-doing fog. Then, eveything went into a sped up life cycle. And, there’s been no looking back. And, his birthday reminds me of how quickly it all goes.
I love my son’s birthday. I want to celebrate it every day. And, in a way I do. He gets hugs every hour or so when we are together. It may sound trite, but life is to be celebrated. I tell my son everyday I am lucky to have him in my life. I’m happy that he feels secure and loved. And, that’s the gift to me on his birthday. And, so we celebrate each sunrise and each sunset with zest and on this day I am even happier.