My teeny-tiny infant boy turns 21 today and I've been wavering between feeling mushily nostalgic and just feeling old. The first thing the obstetrician said on delivering Steve was "We have a scrawny boy!", but he's not scrawny now and he hasn't been for a long time. He's tall and clever and witty, a college senior this fall, and he just earned his commercial pilot's license a few weeks ago.
He's working in Texas this summer but he'll be home in a few weeks for a brief visit, so we'll celebrate his birthday then with a family trip to see a Cleveland Indians game. He hasn't been home since Christmas and every time we see him he seems to have grown a foot taller, or maybe I've shrunk, or maybe my perspective has shifted a bit, or maybe he's just acting his age.
Which is 21 today. Woo-hoo. The last of the fledglings has left the nest and appears to have landed safely. Here's to many more safe landings!
2 comments:
I thought about today being his (and Danny B's) birthday when I wrote the date on a note card earlier today. 21... It is pretty hard to fathom! Congrats on getting both of your children successfully into adulthood! B :)
Yes, 1989 was a good year for boys, wasn't it? Quite the bumper crop.
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