Sam was born 22 years ago. I was 42 at the time. Do the math, and you will see that I am old enough to be his grandmother. Despite that, my son will still invite me to spend his birthday with him going out for lunch and a movie. And that's what we did. Sam and I don't get to spend too much time together, so we appreciate the time we do get. In a couple of months, Sam will graduate from college and head out to California, where he has an internship with the United States Forestry Service. Friends like to tell me that once he goes to California, he will never come back home. Perhaps that will happen, perhaps not. I just want my kids to be happy, wherever they land.
Sam was ten when his dad died. Do I need to tell you how crappy that is? After that, Sam lived in a house of women: me and his two older sisters. And one by one, his sisters left for college, and for Sam's high school years, it was just him and me. It was not easy, for either one of us. The day I took Sam up to the University of Vermont was one of the saddest and happiest days of my life. Sad for the obvious reasons, but happy because I knew that this experience was going to be Sam's salvation. I was not wrong about that.
Sam has proven in so many ways that he is his father's son. His love of learning, his laid-back attitude, his yearning for a better world, his kindness, his tolerance, his curiosity . . . all of these things are redolent of his father. I am so proud of the man he has become, and I look forward to seeing where he will go, what he will do, whose heart he will win over, what kind of life he will create for himself.
Happy birthday, Sam. I will forever be in love with you. XO
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