Yesterday was Matt’s birthday. He turned eight years old. We celebrated his day in the usual way, cake but no ice cream, and plenty of gifts. The kid wanted steak for dinner, so I let his Dad pick up the grocery bill for that one. If it’d been on my dime, we would have ordered pizza. What kid wants steak for his birthday dinner, anyway?
Matt’s a lucky boy. It wasn’t so long ago he was waving to his Nana through a broken window, his mother sleeping in the other room, the boy left unattended. Long story there, the details are best forgotten. Just know that things might have gone tragic.
Suffice it to say, if his father hadn’t come home from Iraq and rescued Matt from she who gave birth to him (nobody – except for her, of course – really considers her to be Matt’s mother) we wouldn’t have the happy ending we have now.
Better yet, let’s call it a happy beginning. The boy is smart. He reads, writes, and does ‘rithmatic. He plays baseball and hikes with his Dad. He isn’t afraid to hold his Nana’s hand when they sit together on the couch, watching American Idol or Wipe-Out. Nor does he ever hesitate to crack a joke, or smart off to his Papa.
We look forward to watching young Matt grow, to fill his potential, to become the good and kind and deserving grownup he is destined to be. Perhaps he’ll be a scientist, or an engineer or a teacher, who knows? Whatever he is, I think he’ll be happy.
In the meanwhile, I hope you enjoy this time, Matt, and will look back later in life, remembering these years with mystery, humor, and grace, and know that we loved you, and always will love you.
Happy Birthday, Matthew