Today is my son's birthday. He is my eldest. He is the child who made me a mom.
In my head, he should look like this:
The two of us in the hospital, right before we left for home.
My thoughts at that moment: "Look at this precious, beautiful boy. I can't believe the hospital is going to let us take him home. They clearly have more confidence in our skills than we do."
At best, my son should look like this:
First birthday.
But he's twenty-six today.
His birthday always makes me think of new beginnings. Our family started when my husband and I got married, but the addition of our son made us feel like we'd formalized the family.
New beginnings.
Spring is around the corner, and in my part of the world (Texas), the weather is warming to almost summer-like temps. We're supposed to hit the low eighties today. My flowers are answering the call of a new season, even though winter is technically still in play.
My daffodils are flowering.
The grape hyacinths are coming up.
And today is my son's birthday. Who knew twenty-six years ago what an amazing young man he would grow to be?
(I did. From the start, I did.)
New beginnings.
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