The days are long but the years short
I have been privileged to witness the most mundane of marvels. From squinty newborn, all slippery limbs and muted squeals to confident mover of heavy equipment, accompanied by a narrative that more than makes up for in charm what it lacks in technique.
You have become the hardiest of saplings, tall and leafy and I, despite the dark circles beneath my eyes, am just a mere observer. Of course I have never forgotten to fill the watering can and have scattered fertilizer and pulled weeds with a profound sense of duty but I see now that the heavy lifting has been yours entirely.
I know that there is no invisible threshold to safekeeping, no finish line for a mother’s worry. There will be surprise frosts and pounding rains, garden variety snails and foreign blights.
But just for a moment, while the candles are smoldering, I might be forgiven if I happen to forget.
Happy birthday to my precious boy!