I’m grateful to be a mother of a son. It’s true all they say about a mother’s bond with a son. It’s unique. It’s sweet. It’s full of heart.
My middle child (now six foot four of him) is twenty-one now–facial haired and wise. He is responsible, dedicated, and lighthearted. He loves his friends well. He is a terrific gift giver. His smile lights up life around him.
Last year he broke his ankle and had to eke his way around campus in one of those knee scooters. I’m sure he learned more about empathy, about people who have a harder time getting around than others. He weathered his time well, and he’s back in the climbing gym (the scene of ankle breaking fame). That says a lot about Aidan. He is tenacious. He keeps at it. He falls down, then rises again, dogged in his pursuit of excellence.
I am proud of him. I’m grateful for him. And as he reaches more and more milestones in this life, my prayer is that he continues to see serving others as a privilege, that he sacrifices with joy, that he learns the art of giving until it hurts. Ive seen those sweet traits throughout his life, and I can’t wait to see them in operation as he moves past graduation to a career, a wife, a family.
His future is bright. And I’m so grateful I got to play an important role in his past. Today? We celebrate him a day late, going out to dinner, opening presents, laughing. Our family is at its best when we’re around a table, recounting stories and laughing with and alongside each other.
Happy birthday, son.