17


Today is my son’s birthday. On fb I wished him, “Happy Birthday, Baby Boy.” But, honestly, he is neither a baby nor a boy, anymore.

I don’t know if I would go so far as to call him a man, he still doesn’t pick up his own towels or pay his own way in this life. He eats off my table and sleeps under our roof. So, maybe “man” is not the way to describe him quite yet, either.

He and I went on a lunch date today. Sushi – our favorite. (He prefers American style to Japanese.) It always reminds me of the fact that he has been so much farther in the air and on the sea than I.

He talked to me today about things he wants to do while he is young. He told me, “I want to travel. I want to come home to here, but I want to go places and see things. How can I do that and it not cost a fortune?” I told him about some ways: working abroad and going to school abroad and hiking about Europe. “Yeah, I want to do that. I’ve been making plans to do so. ”

“Are you still going to Africa (Tanzania) after school next year?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah. Jesse’s mom has it all planned.”

“If I were  young and strong and a boy, I would definitely backpack Europe,” I offered.

“I’ve been reading about it,” he replies. “And Sawyer,” his best bud in the world, “met a guy who canoed the entire Cahaba, from northwest Alabama to the sea. This guy wants to go again, Sawyer is trying to get us a trip together with him.”

I am secretly jealous and honestly and outwardly thrilled. I have a beautiful boy/man who loves his mama like life, who always wants to come home, but is not the least bit afraid the try his wings, anywhere.

He is fast filling that passport of his, we’ll stamp again this summer and next spring: nearly every continent, at 17.

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