Today is Alex’s 29th birthday, and I’m missing him. I don’t see his face as much as I’d like, for as long as I’d like. That’s the reality of living states apart. The months between visits add up.

What’s a mom to do?

I wish I could do more. I wish I could make his favorite dinner, bake a treat for him. He’s a hard one to gift, he doesn’t need much. He’s a minimalist, and let’s me know it.

He’s a march-to-his-own drummer guy, and I’ve known that for most of his life. He always finds his own opinion, his own way, his style.

I’m proud of him, this son of mine who grew up to be confident and funny, edgy and spiritual, hard-working and loyal, somehow all in the same package.

I don’t always understand him. With mom-like precision, I sometimes say exactly the wrong thing, even when I’m trying to get my words right. It’s one of my gifts, I suppose…I installed his buttons, at least some of them, so I find them with ease.

He’s a man, and also still becoming. I’m eager to watch his story unfolding, see where he goes, what his choices are. He’s surprised me, marching to the drum he hears. I can’t hear the beat, but I’m confident he knows the way.

Happy birthday to my son!

~ Sheila