17 years ago today you entered the world and cried. Who could blame you, as you looked up and realized these teenagers staring at you, wide-eyed and apprehensive, were your parents?

You’ve stuck it out with us, though, making it through every milestone as we stood back and thought, wow, we’ve managed to keep him alive another year. This milestone seems more significant than most as you’re practically a grownup (that being defined by the age at which we took responsibility for your life.)

What’s up with you? This year between 16 and 17 has been amazing. You’ve gotten haircuts; albeit irregularly, but hair! cuts! Your grades are what not just you would call good. They’re actually good. You have held your first job now for three whole months. You drive; even more carefully than I do. I totally trust you to drive, cook and manage your own schedule. What is the deal? From everything I’ve heard, having a teenager is not supposed to be like this. Dude, you’re acting like you’re in your thirties.  

Not that I’m complaining . . . no. In fact, you’re transitioning into not just my son, but a friend. Your sense of humor (sick, dark, caustic) makes my day. I love the chattiness that kicks in only after 10pm or when you’re overtired. I love your predictable sense of style (jeans, tee shirt, sneakers) and the way you’ve become the “tee shirt guy” at school. I love that I can still make you laugh till your stomach hurts.

Your love for and commitment to music gives me such pride. I’m so glad you’ve found something that gives you joy.

Happy birthday, bud. I hope your day is “all right.”

Much love,

Mom

This entry was posted on Monday, January 29th, 2007 at 7:11 am and is filed under . You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.