December 13, 1995. The day we met our first son. Those were magical days after coming home from the hospital. Days I vividly recall rocking him in the middle of the night while listening to softly playing Christmas carols. My eyes would leave his beautiful face only to gaze through frosty window panes at our neighbor's twinkling Christmas tree. I felt a special kinship to Mary that year as I rocked my baby in the night quietness. All was calm. All was bright.
Tonight we will celebrate by treating him to a professional hockey game. We gave him the choice of who to take with him as we bought four tickets. Of course, Dad goes because he's the driver...but typical of our son, he chose his little brother and me for the other two tics. And here's the most touching part (as if that weren't touching enough), he is most excited about surprising his little brother who thinks (because his brother told him) we're going to a Christmas activity at church. Big brother is hiding their hockey jerseys in the back of the van so that when we pull up to the arena, they can don their jerseys.
Last night he won $25 playing poker at a friend's house (each boy brought 5 bucks to the party), and tonight he gets to watch hockey while eating his hot dog and popcorn dinner. Turning 13 on the 13th has been pretty sweet so far.
And beginning in 1995, December 13 is one of my favorite days of the year, too.
2 comments:
You know, I would have liked a ticket to the "church activity" too. Next time, call me!
Love, your son's favorite cousin
(in case you couldn't do the math)
What a special month for him! What a surprise for the younger brother.....
Happy Birthday---a little late!
Best,
Kara
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