I spent some time this evening reflecting and pushing myself out of my comfort zone and letting myself talk to others and be myself again and what I realized is that my struggle is not singular. If I’m having a bad weekend, someone else reading this is struggling as well. I want you to know that even if your heart is breaking, your body is aching, your mind feels lost and you feel fragile…you are not alone and someone cares deeply for you. The things that happen are hard and heart-breaking and stunning, but they are not the end for you.

Continue to grow and love and move forward. I’m going to try to do the same along with you.

However, it flickers. Oh, how it flickers. Like a flame just looking for a little encouragement to grow, it flickers and sparks and waits for the opportunity to shine. Unlike many adults, children don’t necessarily need to shine in front of others or with the purpose of recognition, or even allow their flame to grow at all. Sometimes, they just flame away without even thinking about it and move on. Such simple love and kindness.

I’ve seen this happen repeatedly in my life. Often during my time with my son and his friends and during my time in the school system. A few weeks ago, I saw it during a warm evening at the ballpark.

I was standing in line for one of the forty or so gatorades I buy every year at the concession stand when I saw him: the blonde little boy in front of me who was patiently waiting his turn. He couldn’t have been more than 8, at most, and was clutching three dollars. It was a school night and his eyes looked tired and sad. It was approaching 9 and he must have been at one of the early games and stayed for a sibling game.

I saw his eyes scan the menu. Hamburgers, Chicken (our stand serves Chik-fil-a!), hot dogs, french fries, sodas, energy drinks and many various candies. His little blonde head nodded slightly downward as he looked at the canisters in the front of the stand. Air heads, $0.25. Ring pops, $0.75. Tips for good service, please. Condiments. Napkins. Forks.

He looked carefully back to the menu and then to the canisters again and softly said, “French Fries, please.” The boy at the counter said, “Sure, kid. Anything else?” The little boy looked down at the canisters again, looking hard at the ring pops, and I saw him swallow. “No, no thank you.” He handed the concession stand worker his two dollars and waited for his french fries. They came promptly. He smiled, said thank you and deposited his $1 in the tip canister.

Generosity of spirit can be found in the most unexpected places. I am a lucky woman to find it in so many.

It never occurred to me that the people I’d left along the way weren’t really gone. For the longest time I was such a black and white thinker that I’d written those relationships off as lost to me.

And then I found Facebook. Because I’m an introvert, social networking draws me like flies to honey. I can speak to people quickly and efficiently, which also hits my firstborn tendencies, and feel like I’m connecting without losing the energy that I lose in face-to-face interaction.

And then I started exploring.

And found the little girl from down the farm road that I used to play with often. I road my green bike with the banana seat to her house frequently. And not only did she remember me, but she was delighted to hear from me. We still had the connection that we had even then.

And I found the first friends I had when I finally started elementary school. And then those when I moved to a new town.

I found my first group of friends from middle school. We were so close for those four years. It was like we picked up where we left off. The best friendships are always like that, aren’t they?

I found my high school best friends and my college best friends. I found people who weren’t best friends, but that I like more as adults than I did as children. They have grown into amazing people that I love.

Through other social networking sites I have found people that I love more and more each day.

For me, I think it was just a reminder that, though there are times I feel alone and have certainly felt alone in the past, I never was. They were with me. They missed me. They were there.

And they still are.

Perverts. I’m not telling you about that. It was a special moment and you can go make your own.

The brown-eyed girl smiled and took his hand. From the other room, she heard his friend yell, “Did you kiss her yet? Have you asked her out? Is it official? C’mon man, I don’t have all night. Just do it!” She laughed and blushed, as did he.

Days turned to weeks and over the winter holiday they spent much time together. They had the same group of friends, so they were able to spend time apart without it overwhelming them or feeling threatened, as so many do at that age. However, they found it hard to find time alone and decided to get creative.

Just outside of town was a farm area that sat atop a hill and next to a wooded area. The snow was crisp and she would slowly pull her crimson colored car to the edge of the woods. He would sit on the hood of her car and she would lean against him as he held her. They would make up stories of wolves and ax-men and all of the things that might be in the woods. Really, it was an excuse to look at the stars and the trees and the beautiful, snow covered hilly area. Never in her life had the brown-eyed girl been happier.

However, all good things must come to an end. At the end of the holiday vacation, Green eyes called her. It was clear from the tone of his voice that he’d been crying. He told her that his father had been relocated and that they were moving in less than a month.

She was crushed. She was losing him just as she’d found him. She was also losing her best friend.

Their parents were very supportive; Perhaps moreso than they should be have been in a situation with teenagers so young. You don’t need to know the details, but they tried to make it work. They tried desperately, but with over 600 miles separating them, and before free nights and weekends, it was not possible to maintain the relationship. Reluctantly, the brown-eyed girl said good-bye.

Both moved on and found happiness elsewhere, but years later, with the accessibility of the internet, found one another again. The brown-eyed girl was newly married and the green-eyed boy was, again, miles and miles away. They agreed to keep in touch.

And they do.

Some connections remain, regardless of time and circumstance.

He was into alternative music and she loved mainstream pop. He embraced the baggy clothes style of the mid-90s and she was a prep through and through. He was quiet and sweet-natured and she was outgoing and acerbic, though, later, she would realize that her true self was also quiet, as well. What they had in common, however, was their ability to just be together and enjoy the company of each other.

The girl liked the boy, but because he was friends with the boy she’d dated, she didn’t allow herself to feel everything she wanted to feel for him. One night, they drove around their small town and stopped by a store. There were beaded bracelets that came with the comment that if you made a wish on them and placed them around your wrist, when they fell off, your wish would come true. The boy, with a sparkle in his eye, suggested that the girl get the one in green. It matched his eyes exactly.

She shyly bought the bracelet and made a wish. Not for him, but that she would feel loved. There were many days in that time that she didn’t. She placed it around her wrist and waited. It was October.

A month came and went and the two remained friends. She showed him the places that she liked to go when she needed quiet and they did the things teenagers do. They went out and explored private property that had warnings like “If we catch you, we will shoot first and ask questions later.” They weren’t the smartest teenagers in the world. They explored places like cornfields and lay on their backs looking at the stars. He gave her piggyback rides through the rows and she laughed like a child.

One day, the two were at a school assembly and were, of course, sitting together as they always did. They were the best of friends and their other friends had noticed that they had become consumed by one another. In the middle of the assembly, she felt a tug on her wrist. The green bracelet fell off her wrist and she looked up into his bright green eyes. He smiled his easygoing grin and removed his hand from her wrist. “Now,” he said, “whatever you wished can come true.”

She blushed, because she was the shy sort at that time, and looked away. She may have mumbled something like, “We’ll see” and left it at that. He asked her to come over later that night and she replied that she would after her homework. When she got to his house, he was going down the hill on his makeshift snowboard with one of his friends. The powdery snow coated everything, like a wintery fairyland.

As she watched them go down the hill, she began to grow cold and couldn’t prevent her teeth from chattering. He walked up to her and softly moved the hair from her face and put his arms around her to pull her close. This wasn’t something new to her. He often held her close, as friends do. Something felt different about this time. He put his head into the small of her neck and told her that after the last run they would go inside and talk.

However, as anyone who has tried to snowboard realizes, the inexperienced often fall and he tumbled hard. As the wind was knocked out of him, she was already sliding down the slippery hill towards him, as was his friend. When she got to him, he laughed. She took his hand, helped him up and they went inside.

Of course, with the excitement of a new relationship, the girl and the boy chose to canoe together, against the sage advice of the adults in the group. A man that the girl loved and respected very much warned her that the relationship wouldn’t last the weekend if they sat in that canoe. She smiled, hugged him and sat down with a smile. Because he loved her like a father, he kept his mouth shut and said no more.

All of the teenagers in the group knew the girl couldn’t swim well. She could keep her head above the water when necessary, but beyond that, she would have difficulty. Luckily, the boy could swim well and he assured her that if the canoe tipped, he would be well equipped to save her from danger. She trusted the boy and picked up her paddle and began to stroke. She never anticipated anything bad would come from the day. The sun was shining and she and the boy were doing well.

Until 2 hours later when conversation began to get heated. The boy had difficulty paddling and the girl was exasperated with this as her steering was flawless. The water was entering a difficult passage of particularly deep water and the girl was getting nervous with the amount of rocking in the canoe. The boy had begun to paddle with choppy strokes, due to his frustration, and the girl looked at the water with trepidation. She begged him to calm down, but he snapped at her and she snapped back at him and then…

She was in the water. It was cold and she couldn’t touch the bottom. She opened her eyes, though the water was muddy and she couldn’t see anything except a tree branch directly in front of her eyes. It was at that moment that she felt the branch grasping her ankle. She thrashed her head to the left and to the right, and realized she was in trouble when she saw the large tree to her right. She tried to move upward and, as she hit her head, she realized that she was under the canoe and her breath was running out. She jerked on her ankle over and over and couldn’t move. She heard shouting and realized that there were people coming for her, but they couldn’t find her and they might be too late. She’d had dreams of drowning, but never anticipated it to be like this. As her breath ran out and she began to feel dizzy, she twisted her ankle free and kicked away from the tree.

As she came up for air, the first thing she saw was the boy. He was laughing. As this was a very strong-willed girl, her best friend stood between them as the girl was going to go show him exactly what she thought of him. Her friend said that the boy had rocked the canoe on purpose, and that he hadn’t realized she was stuck beneath the canoe. The sage father-figure was right. The relationship was over and the boy’s life nearly ended that day.

As such, the girl no longer trusted the boy, for good reason, and could no longer canoe with him as the urge to end him was strong. She needed a new partner to canoe and she needed someone who was even tempered and who would not attempt to drown her for laughs. A quiet boy, cousin to her best friend, volunteered with a “Hey, y’all, I’ll switch canoes. You don’t even have to paddle unless we need to turn a corner. As long as you talk to me and keep me company, I’ll do all the work.”

Sold.

Randy (not the boy’s real name) was a farm boy from a town about 70 miles away from where the girl lived. The girl had grown up on a farm, but had moved to a less rural area about 4 years earlier. She took a shine to his cheekiness and gladly hopped in his canoe. They were carrying one of the coolers, so his flipping the canoe seemed unlikely. There was something about him that seemed genuine and kind and she trusted him.

They talked all day. Early in the conversation, Randy looked at the girl and said, “By gosh, I think yer a real city girl, aren’t ya?” She laughed and said, “I’m no redneck, that’s for sure.” And City Girl and Redneck were born. City Girl kept her end of the bargain and paddled when necessary. Redneck used his farm boy muscles and paddled the whole way without complaint. Conversation never lagged and the canoe moved smoothly through the water.

Throughout the rest of the weekend, they stuck together like peas and carrots. Though they had little in common besides their ability to talk to one another freely and without judgment, the weekend went smoothly. As 15-year olds did, at the time, they exchanged addresses and telephone numbers. They did not have email and Redneck wouldn’t have used it if they did. He was too busy rebuilding cars and spending time with his faithful dog. City girl was technologically stupid.

They wrote back and forth for several years, but, as time often does, it got the better of them. They saw each other last when the sage father figure passed from a particularly malevolent form of cancer. The girl was broken-hearted. As she walked into the dinner hall, for the family meal, as she was considered family, she saw him. He walked up to her and hugged her tightly and held her. Then he softly held her back, looked her up and down, smiled that Redneck grin and said, “CITY GIRL! How the hell are ya?”

Yes, time moves forward, but out there in the universe are a Redneck and City Girl. Both are married with children and not to one another. It never would have worked because it’s not how it was supposed to be. But City Girl looks at a letter and a picture of a boy next to an old car and a dog, often, and smiles when she remembers how a Redneck gained her trust and her lifelong friendship.

And they both lived Happily Ever After.

The End.

P.S. None of these pictures are the picture the City Girl has of the Redneck. She’s saving that one all to herself.

I remember the terror I felt the first time I realized that he no longer had the baby scent.

And then the first time he smelled. I mean really smelled. As in “go take a shower you smell.”

And the first time he actually met my mouth instead of my chin or my nose when he gave me a kiss.

And all the small things that I find myself now terrified of losing: his hand when he crosses the street, the goodnight kisses, when he falls asleep in our bed–his little hand searching for my shoulder and the sweet smiles in his sleep when I say his name and tell him I love him, the first time he’s embarrassed when I tell him I love him in front of his friends, or the first time he doesn’t rush to greet me when he comes home from school.

Every stage of his life has been my favorite. He’s my favorite. He’s always been my favorite. No one makes me laugh as hard as him. He has my sense of humor. Of course I’m going to think he’s hilarious. He’s thoughtful and serious and sensitive and laughs at fart jokes because they are hysterical. They are. I don’t care what you think. THEY ARE HYSTERICAL. Prudes.

I don’t know how to let him go. But I will because I love him with quiet desperation and care. And the day will come when he has to let me go, too. Loving someone means that you will eventually feel the loss that comes with letting go. And I’m scared to death.

When AJ had his Kentucky incident, I didn’t think. I smacked Leon to get his attention and then I ran. I haven’t ran in years, but I ran to him. I couldn’t help him or make him better, but he needed me and I needed to be with him.

When the people we love are in trouble, we react quickly and emotionally.

Recently, I was watching footage of the Dallas motorcade with JFK and Jackie and I reacted to it rather strongly. Warning: Graphic language coming.

I’ve probably watched the grainy footage from Dallas 100 times in my 30 years. I’ve noticed many things about it and have looked at it from various mental angles. However, this particular time, when I watched it, what kept coming back to me was that Jackie reacted quickly and instinctively to keep Jack safe. I have no idea what the state of their marriage was. By all accounts, it was not the most functional, but whose is? However, she recovers from shock quickly and scrambles to the back of a moving car to grab pieces of his brain matter and then pulls him down to keep him safe.

Brain matter isn’t like a finger or a toe. You can’t sew it back on. Once Jack was hit and it was exposed, it was gone. He was gone.

When the people we love are in trouble, we react quickly and emotionally.

It wasn’t rational to scramble across a moving vehicle when bullets were flying around her, but love motivates people to do things they wouldn’t otherwise do. It gives us strength to do things that we don’t know we can.

I’m in awe of its power. Always and completely.

Yes, they do.

Scrapping with one another, baring those little fangs, biting ankles and pushing their fat little bodies against one another for “prime couch real estate.”

But when the sun goes down, and the house goes quiet and the boy child goes to sleep and the man drifts off…it’s just them and mommy and reruns on tv…they let down their hair.

Tear down the wall. Break that sucker down. I attribute it all to the magic blanket. That and they secretly adore each other, but don’t let them hear it. They will immediately start chewing each others ears and hiding toys.

Little stinkers

It broke my heart. The only thing that kept me from bawling my eyes out was that I am expected to keep professional decorum in the classroom. Little boys, aged 9 according to the narrative, were placed on opposite sides of a make-shift ring (on a basketball court) and held back by older boys. They were then told to go at each other and chided when they didn’t. I was watching these babies beat the crud out of each other and, with every hit, I felt a piece of my heart die. At the end of the fight, when an older boy gleefully proclaimed “Knock out!” and one 9-year old jumped up and down and the other cried his little boy eyes out, I felt physically ill. The loser was then heckled for not being stronger and tougher. He was slumped in a corner and was hurting and all I could see was my 8-year old’s face and build in this little guy.

He was just a little guy.

I understand that they are teaching them adaptive skills for where they are living. It kills me that they have to do so.

He’s just a little guy.

When A.J. skins his knee, he winces and I want to hold him. This little one got punched and kicked and beat down. I cannot imagine what his life is like.

Life isn’t fair. It just isn’t. Boys are growing too fast in these areas. They are being groomed for a life that is so far beyond what they should have to deal with and what they are capable of handling. Maybe I need to grow a thicker skin and face reality because I suppose that I’ve been naive as to what is happening out in the world. There is a part of me that wants to save them them all. The realist in me realizes I can’t. It’s a helpless feeling.

He’s just a little guy…

Claudio Vitale is an Italian brain surgeon who has recently made headlines after exhibiting extreme bravery in his field: he completed brain surgery while having a heart attack. Why is this a big deal?

As a surgeon, Vitale was aware that he was having a heart attack and that for every minute he delayed his own help, a part of his heart was losing function that would not be restored. In other words, he was killing himself to save his patient. His only comment was that he couldn’t leave the patient at such a delicate time (in the procedure). Other stories have commented that if he’d left the patient, the patient would have surely died.

So, let’s break it down. Vitale was dying. The patient was dying. Vitale saved the patient at loss of his own heart functioning permanently.

Amazing courage. I’m in awe of this man. I want to believe that I would do the same for people, but I’m not sure I’m there yet. Regardless, he’s tugged on my heartstrings and some days I need to be reminded of the humanity of the world we live in.

At whatever time of day I would have to get ready to go, I would lug out my Plano box and choose the daily colors. If I didn’t have to go out, I would sit in front of the tv with a mirror and play dress up with my girlie-metics. AJ loved to watch me put on my face and would often sit behind me and view me in my mirror.

He would come up behind me, hug me with his chubby little arms and grin at me in the mirror and tell me I was “bootiful.” One day, however, he was looking at me with a particularly tender smile and he said, “Aw, mama, we’re friends.” From that day on, when I did my makeup, he would come behind me, hug me, look at us in the mirror and say “we’re friends.”

As he’s grown, there are times he continues to reaffirm not only his love for me as a mother, but his genuine feeling that I listen to him and take care of him as a friend. This does not mean that I am not in charge or that I’m a permissive parent. I’m an authoritative parent with equal parts strict and loving. What I hear from him, however, is that my boundaries provide security and love and that my being his parent doesn’t effect how he feels about our friendship. This flies in the face of all of those parents that feel like they have to be permissive for their children to love them more.

Yes, AJ. We’re friends. I hope you will remember that when you become a teenager and hate me for all the times I reinforce your security and safety. I hope you remember it when I keep you away from the people I know aren’t good for you. I hope you remember it when you want to go on trips that lack structure and put holes in your body and dye your hair (hey, feel free if you want to pay for it). When you are an adult, freedom is yours and I’ll still be your mom and, yes, AJ, we’ll still be friends. Hopefully.

My great grandmother as a young adult.

One of the things I remember is her piano. She never played it for me, rather she allowed me to plunk away on it as my mother made excuses for me and begged me to stop “ruining the piano.” My great-grandmother, in her love and her excitement over my musical happiness just blew it off and allowed me to slam, bang and make some horrible noises from that poor piano that played some beautiful hymns when her gnarled fingers would touch it’s aging keys.

As I got older, I recognized the importance of visiting her often, but it never felt like enough. When I moved away from home and got married, she was one of the few people in my life who supported me and my decisions completely. The first time she met Husband she gasped and blushed and said, “Oh my, he is a LOOKER, isn’t he. So tall and handsome.” She continued to gush until she made us all quite uncomfortable. Now, almost 10 years later, I grin and am glad she approved. See, at the time, it was impossible for me to realize that she had once been a young woman.

In Lucille’s later years, my Aunt lived with her. In 2007, after my Aunt’s passing, we found an old photo album of Lucille’s in my Aunt’s belongings. The pictures of my great grandmother and her life, in the late 1920s and early 1930s, simply took my breath away. Besides being amazing and bold, my great grandmother had such spirit within her, even then.

Lucille in Berlin on her honeymoon

My great grandmother had not been doing well for years. Cancer was overtaking her, but I was unable to visit her because I was 9 months pregnant and couldn’t make the drive to go back to my hometown and see her. I got the call that my great-grandmother had passed 3 weeks before AJ was born. I couldn’t attend the funeral, so I think there will always be a lack of closure. I carry her and her messages, with me, however, including the wisdom that, in my youth, I’d always tossed aside as something from the “old people.”

One Easter, I remember she came for dinner and under the table passed me a beautifully wrapped box. She whispered that I should wait to open it because she didn’t bring one for everyone. I’ve rarely felt so special in my life because everyone knew Lucille didn’t play favorites–she loved all of us immensely. Later that day, I opened the box and found a gold pin with the word JOY in cubic zirconia stones. At the time, I liked it because she gave it to me, but didn’t wear it because it was something of an “old person gift.” I would give anything to find it now. Anything. She taught me that joy can be found in the little things in life: The smiles of my child, a late night with friends, a cuddle from a sweet puppy, fresh lemonade. With all the things in life I strive for, joy is the one hope she had for me. I find it when I think of her.

This is the part where, if little believing eyes are around, you ask them to go away for about 10 minutes. Why you are letting little believing eyes look at my blog, I have no idea because this is an adult blog.

Last night, AJ was away from home at a sleepover that he’d looked forward to all week. When I say looked forward to, I mean that when I told him he could go after dinner, he was trying to get us to eat dinner at 2:30 in the afternoon. At 7pm, he was allowed to leave and when I say he practically flew out the door and down the street, I don’t think I’m exaggerating too much. As such, Husband and I had nothing to do.

Can I communicate what a rare occasion this is? The last time Husband and I have had time without AJ was for Husband’s Christmas party, which was 2 hours. Prior to that it was my birthday dinner, which was 2 hours and prior that that, it’s beyond my memory, but it was likely something similar. A whole night is unheard of for us and while we were thrilled we were also….well, bored. What do you do when you are used to only doing kid friendly things? Bar hopping? We aren’t the type. Clubbing? I currently have a bum knee and Husband won’t dance if I pay him (and I’ve tried paying him). Toilet papering the neighbor whose motorcycle keeps waking me as he drives to work at 4am? Well, you know we’re in a recession and toilet paper is expensive. We decided to take advantage of the opportunity to actually pick out his basket together as opposed to the whole “I’ll run to the store and pick it up, you stay here and keep him busy, routine.”

Those that know us personally know that we have been on a journey of “healthful eating” that leads to eating properly and restricted caloric intake 6 days a week and anything we want one day a week. AJ has done well with this and is actually quite a stickler for the rules. He’s never believed in Santa or the Easter Bunny (again, another topic for another time), and since Saturday is our “eat what we want” day, we decided that we’d let him have his basket early. The dilemma here was what to get him being that I was not going to allow him to go into sugar shock after restricting his candy/soda intake for 4 months. This is what I came up with:

There are a lot of personal stories behind the items in this basket, but I was looking for a small mixture of decent candy that he can eat over a long term period and enough sugar that he doesn’t feel like he’s missing out. The items I included were items that AJ has expressed interest in over the course of about a year of shopping. Overall, I spent about the same amount as I would have on a candy basket and this is mainly stuff he can use again and again. I also don’t feel guilty about giving him a little bit of candy and then telling him to eat healthy meals this way. Husband and I patted ourselves on the back for our ingenuity and waited to see how AJ would react.

He came home tired from his sleepover, but happy. I explained the situation about how Easter is tomorrow and everyone else would be getting things tomorrow, but that since his free day was on Saturday, it might make more sense for him to get it today. However, if he didn’t want it today, that would be fine and it was his choice. AJ’s a rational little guy and said “Gimme the basket.” At first, he didn’t understand that the bucket WAS his basket. When he did, his expression was hilarious. He kept going through the items saying “this is the best Easter basket ever” and “I will never forget this day.” He’s a little melodramatic. I don’t know where he gets it.

The fun wasn’t over, though, as Husband had decided that we were all going to see Monsters vs. Aliens in 3D after some necessary afternoon shopping and a leisurely dinner. I’d never seen a 3D movie and I was pretty excited about the whole thing. When we got to the mall, I found jeans (in a smaller size! YES!) and an adorable old-fashioned looking dress that I’m looking for excuses to wear. One place we always stop at is Brooks Brothers because Husband has become something of a BB addict. Look, if he won’t take the first step and admit it, I’ll do it for him. I’m assertive that way. They were having a sale and while he and I looked at things, AJ made friends with the salespeople. He really did. He talks to everyone. He made friends with the man fixing our central heat the other day, too. He loves people. I couldn’t hear what he was talking about, but saw him talking to the man and looking at the women’s jewelry and asking questions.

As we were about to leave, he asked me to try on a bracelet to see if it would fit because he wanted to buy a bracelet for “someone special” with the money he’d gotten from his grandmother for Easter. After having me try on about 20 bracelets, he chose one that was so tight on me I think it cut off circulation. AJ is a loving little guy and I wasn’t sure if this was for me or for someone at school, but either way, it was far too expensive for anyone and he didn’t need to buy it. I tried to be sneaky and said, “AJ, you know I don’t wear pearls, right?” Total lie. I do wear pearls, regular pearls, not the ones with silver that he’d chosen. He winced and said, “But I want to buy these for you! I’m going to buy them for your Easter present. I want it to be special.” Husband looked at him and mentioned that if I wanted the bracelet that we had the funds to purchase it and AJ didn’t have to spend any money to buy me a bracelet. AJ looked at him like he was dumb (I’ll admit, I do that a lot to people and it’s not a good trait) and said “I have money and I want to buy it with my money so it will be special.” Leon had him ask me if it’s the bracelet I wanted and I pointed to one that wouldn’t require an amputation of my hand. I thought that the extra $2 it cost might deter him because he tends to be thrifty with his money. Not today. He had his heart set on this.

My 8-year old bought me a silver bracelet from Brooks Brothers so I could have a special Easter present “just like his.” With his own money. All the money he has. He insisted upon carrying it out of the store and said, “Mama, this is for you. Happy Easter.” I hugged him tightly, got choked up and kissed the top of his head. He grinned at me and whispered, “You’ll never forget this day, will you?” No, AJ. I will never forget this day.