Today is my son’s nineteenth birthday. And it’s the first time in many years that I won’t wake him up with kisses and my discordant rendition of “Happy Birthday,” or make him his favorite birthday dinner (stuffed shells), or present him with a Carvel ice cream cake late in the evening when his homework has been completed and he can finally relax.
I find myself feeling much like I felt in those first few days after he departed for college 350 miles away from us. The house feels too empty, too quiet. I am unprepared for this overwhelming sense that something is missing. My heart feels heavy.
Yet, I am so grateful he has friends who are making this first “adult” birthday away from home special for him. They have planned dinner and a movie for tonight, and have presented him with gifts that reveal to me they truly do know the heart of my boy.
So I am waiting until the clock reads 10:35am. I asked my son to let me be his wake up call this morning. I will sing out of tune, wish him the happiest of birthdays over the telephone, and tell him how much I love him and hope he enjoys this special day with his new friends.
For today this phone call will mean everything to me. And it will be enough.
No Sick Days For Mom 