On November 23, 1982, my son was born. Fast forward and he’s just celebrated his thirtieth birthday. Whew!
As any parent will tell you, watching a child age into adulthood is a fascinating, but odd experience. I look at the man who is my son and vividly recall the smiling toddler he once was, the one who was so enthusiastic about the strawberries growing in our garden that he ate practically every one before it ever ripened. I remember the nine year old who could never find his shoes in the mornings, let alone his backpack. No, the man before me is an accomplished executive producer who travels the globe for his profession. He manages extraordinary budgets and multiple crews from Times Square to China.
It’s all pretty amazing, to give birth to a child, to nurture him along the way, and then to have the joy of knowing him as an adult. So, I keep those precious little memories tucked away, savoring them all while appreciating the man my son is – compassionate, tender, generous, creative, loyal, reliable, and funny, funny, funny! Sure, his father and I had something to do with how he turned out but his success is truly his own. Parents can only take their children so far. After that, it’s all about the choices made, the paths followed. While I burst with pride for all of my children, their success belongs to them. I am just grateful to have been along for the ride!