“How did it get so late so soon?
It’s night before it’s afternoon.
December has come before it’s June.
My goodness how the time has flewn.
How did it get so late so soon?”
As I write this, we are celebrating my son’s twentieth birthday. Twenty! Could it possibly be? Wasn’t it only yesterday he was clinging to me, and insisting that I pick him up?
Time passes, and I am never ready for it. Never!
The teens were not difficult, though people seem to dread them. The worst I remember him doing is biting his laptop screen in frustration, and cracking the screen. Did he do anything other than that?
For his 19th birthday, I got him a beer. I then proceeded to laugh at him as he tried to drink it – the faces he was making! He blames me for his dislike of alcohol – although to be fair, I think that I am allergic to it. He just didn’t like it, and since then has had no desire to try again.
Twenty is certainly a lot less exhausting than say, two or three – though I loved those years, and would go back in a heartbeat if I had the chance. Like most children, he wanted a lot of attention from me in those early years – though by the time he was 21 months old, he was into the habit of getting me interested in an activity, and then moving on to another one (I guess he felt I needed too much attention, also.)
When he was young, I had a lot of fears – what if I accidentally let go of the stroller, and it rolled out into traffic (his strollers all had nail marks in the handles where I gripped them too tightly.) What if I fell down the stairs while I was carrying him? What if he choked on his food, or fell out the window… What if someone took him away from me?
Those early years were full of fear, but (being me) I don’t find these later years any less anxiety provoking. I suppose that the downfall of having a child that you love more than yourself, is the constant worry over what could go wrong.
Will he, for instance, move far away from home like I did, so I can hardly ever see him again? And what if something happens to him – a natural disaster, car crash, terrorist attack… What if he dies without faith, and is lost for an eternity? How can Heaven be a glorious place, if he does not join me there someday?
What if there is a war, and he is forced to fight?
What if the world becomes darker and more evil than it already is? What if that evil comes here? What if there isn’t enough money, and he goes hungry?
Perhaps I have too much imagination. Frequently I think so, for other people seem to be able to live – to actually live – without constantly worrying about what might be.
Anyway, my son is twenty today. He has been in my life for more than half of it (I was 19 years, 6 months, and 1 day old when he was born,) and I can’t imagine a time when I didn’t know him.
Happy Birthday, my beautiful boy!