The countdown has begun. The boy will leave for college in 24 days. I’m sleepless, thinking of all I may have forgotten to tell him before he goes.

Does he know he was the best thing that ever happened to me? I mean, besides getting married and of course, having his sister, those were also ?best things”. He was the best thing that happened to me in 1990.

The boy was born the Monday after Superbowl Sunday. It was icy and cold. He was two weeks late and a dollar short. Irony.

Now he’s the age I was when he was conceived. How is that possible? Wasn’t I older, at 18 and a half? Just after my freshman year of college we learned about the boy, and to some, it was tragic. Who doesn’t think teenage pregnancy isn’t tragic? And yet, the boy has charmed my life from the moment he made himself known.

I know who and where I was before he was around. I wonder who and where I’ll be when he’s away?

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