We celebrated my youngest son’s tenth birthday today. And not to sound like an old guy, but I can’t believe how quickly ten years has passed. He’s transformed from this big, long baby into a tall, tough, yet sensitive boy, and the changes have been so incremental, so infinitesimal when observed on a day-to-day basis, that it’s hard to understand how we even got here.
As I was trying to think about what to write for last night’s blog post, my older son asked what I planned to write about. I told him I didn’t know, that I was still thinking about it. And my younger son, the chap whose birthday is today, half-jokingly suggested that I write about him. I knew right away that I would do just that, but how do I sum up everything that is my son in 750 words?I have no idea.What do I write about?Do I mention his kindness? The way that he lights up when he’s around babies. The incomprehensibly sweet moment his mother captured in a photo, of his four-year-old excitement at holding his newborn sister for the first time. The way he’s universally liked by his classmates and teammates.Do I mention his craziness? The way he’ll do anything for a laugh. The time he walked up to a total stranger at Brookfield Zoo and said, “How are you? I haven’t seen you in a long time,” to which the stranger had no response, which didn’t bother him at all because he did it to make his brother and sister laugh, which they did. Or the silly faces and bizarre sounds he makes at random times, just to be funny.Do I mention his smarts? The way he’ll bring up something we talked about weeks before, after thinking about it silently and coming to a sudden revelation, which often leaves us confused because we weren’t part of his thought process and have no idea why he’s talking about something we’ve likely forgotten about. Or the ease with which he mastered his math facts.I could write about all of these things and a million others. The pride he felt at achieving perfect attendance at school this year. His uncanny ability to sing along with seemingly any song that comes on the radio. His determination for mastering various athletic feats. The way he gets dressed every day as soon as he wakes up. The unbelievably tight curl of his hair, and the entirely unique texture associated with it.I could mention his toughness. Like the vivid memory of him climbing the largest rocks farthest from the shore in the tide pools in Corona del Mar, California when he was six, and the trickle of blood on his shin when he was done. Or the way he bounced back from a broken leg (from going down a slide) and a broken collarbone (from falling off a chair), by the time he was two-and-a-half. Or the way he stood on second base this past April, and watched as a hard hit line drive nailed him in the arm, never bothering to move.All four of my kids have blue eyes, but there are times—if the light is just right, or if the surrounding colors are just right—in which his eyes are so blue it seems like he invented the color.I could go on and on.But in thinking about him, I’ve concluded that really all you need to know, and really all I need to say, is that my life is better because he exists. I’m don’t mean it the way people think their lives are better because Bill Gates, or Mick Jagger or the Cubs exist. He has helped make my life what it is, and make me who I am. My son makes every second of my life better than it otherwise would be.What more could we ask of anyone?Someday—and it’s a day that I don’t want to think about—he’s going to leave. He’ll go off to college, or he’ll go to New York or LA to be an actor, or to some small city to play minor league baseball, or somewhere else to begin an adventure we can’t even imagine yet. And when he leaves I won’t see him everyday. I won’t hug him everyday. I won’t see those eyes and that smile, and I won’t hear his voice.But there are thousands of days until that happens. In the meantime, I’ll relish every moment as he has new experiences, learns new things, meets new people, sees new places, and navigates through life’s disappointments, thrills, challenges and exhilaration.And I’ll never ever forget just how lucky I am to call him my son.Let me send you more Dry it in the Water posts!
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