Birthday

Thirty-two years ago today, I was laboring to give birth to my eldest child -- my son. It was the bicentennial of the birth of the United States of America, and amidst all the celebration, my baby was making his appearance -- only a few days late.

I remember it as a very long, langorous day of periodic naps and lots of television about the tall ships in Boston Harbor. I remember my young husband fidgeting and fussing as I went about the business of childbirth. It took me all day. It was 11:09 PM when my new baby son made his appearance amidst the booming fireworks that commemorated the occasion.

Now, I know that the fireworks weren't really ABOUT that particular moment -- the arrival of one new baby on the planet, but it felt that way to me, and we celebrated every single one of his birthdays with fireworks and cakes decked in red, white, and blue. I believe he might have been seven or eight years old before he realized that the whole Independence Day thing wasn't about him.

Today, the first thing I did after I got up was call across the country to say Happy Birthday and Happy Fourth of July. The man's voice that greets me on the other end of the phone reminds me of how very many years have passed. Still, the lilt of his voice, the irrepressible sound of him reminds me of the days when he was small and curious and eager to be in the world. I remember all the funny things that came about as he grew up, mostly because he was so intent and so literal and so determined.

That serious, intent youngster is all grown up now -- a man who knows who he is and who knows his way. He is so good it takes my breath away. I love him dearly...

So, while others around the U.S. celebrate and contemplate another year in the life of our nation, today is just Rick's birthday.

swan