I have just spent a great week with my family in Sacramento. My oldest grandchild and only granddaughter just graduated high school and that’s something a grandma just has to be there for. My son and his family flew in from Illinois. This is the first time in the three years we have been living in Maine that I have seen my family.

I also had the marvelous opportunity to see one of my best and oldest friends. We met when her youngest son and my only son were about 6 months old. Her birthday is the same as my daughter’s and we are only a few months apart in age. We lost touch with each other a long time ago. Recently I just happened to “google” her and found an email address. Now she is on Facebook and we will make sure we stay connected.

So. Here I sit in the airport waiting for my plane. I’m wishing I had paid more attention to my return itinerary because I would have changed it. I fly out of Sac at 6:00 heading to Phoenix. In Phoenix I change planes with a 2 hour layover. (!?!?!?!?!?) But wait. It gets better. I leave Phoenix for Boston at about 9:20 this evening arriving in Boston at around 5:30 am. Then I get to hang around Logan for three hours leaving for home at 8:40 am. (?!?!?!?!?!?!) What WAS I thinking??????

I think I will go get something to munch on and to drink. I am trying my best to avoid the Cinnabon kiosk but I’m not sure I’ll make it…

My daughter has a heart big as California where she lives. She has done the most courageous and selfless thing I’ve ever seen her do. In spite of her aching heart, she knows she has done the right thing by letting the love of her life walk away instead of asking him to be something he’s not. It’s natural to think of all the “what ifs” in a situation like this, but thinking like that doesn’t  change the present. My beautiful daughter, let yourself grieve for your loss, but know that your heart will heal. And never lose hope that love is out there.

My daughter is my keeper of all dates important.  So I get a message on Facebook from her yesterday asking if I called Jesse on Thursday.  To say Happy Birthday.  Ummm, I forgot?  Actually, I knew it was his birthday, but I got distracted.  Not an excuse; an explanation.

There are certain milestones that track our passage through time.  Births, marriages, deaths… and certain birthdays.  I hit one of the birthday ones last year when Jesse turned 30.  (I am not old!!!!!)  I probably didn’t acknowledge that birthday either (probably because of that… number.  On Jesse’s 26th birthday I wrote a post dedicated to him. I would like to re-post it here.  It’s all the same, he’s just a little older. Sos… here goes…

Jesse was climbing his way out of his playpen almost before he could walk and figured out how to get out of his crib shortly after that. We moved into a house with hardwood floors when he was 2 1/2 and I quickly decided to put him in a regular bed so he wouldn’t crack his skull letting go from the top of the crib.

Jesse spent his toddler years decorating the walls with crayons and discovering what items would NOT flush down the toilet. We had to pull up the toilet in the hall bathroom three times in one year because the items that tried to go down got so thoroughly stuck in the neck that pulling the toilet was the only way to get them out.

After that, Jesse discovered matches. He tested them out on some grass outside – fortunately the flames didn’t touch the house six inches or so away. He and his sister even tried playing with matches in his bedroom closet. I still shudder to think… another time he decided that the hallway from the living room to his bedroom would make a great bowling alley. Unfortunately, the ball didn’t stop until it had gone into the wall. We had a vibrating recliner in the living room. While it was plugged into the wall, he decided to cut the cord “just to see what would happen.” He managed to break the circuit, ruin the cord AND the scissors. He didn’t hurt himself only because the scissors had rubber shielded handles!

When he was in the third grade, Jesse’s science project was about the life cycle of the frog. He paid a visit to the field at the end of our street and collected a number of small toads that he put in a jar. As a “late bird,” he started class an hour later than the “early birds.” When the “early birds” got out for recess, he was waiting at the door with his jar and began generously passing out the toads to his classmates. When his teacher told me the tale, she said she was able to rescue all but two of the poor little toads.

Fortunately very shortly after that, Jesse became involved with Little League and found a new (and healthier) outlet for his energy. And he discovered girls. A running joke while he was in high school that every dance picture was with a different girl. There was only one exception — and he married her.

Now my baby is *gasp* 31 and has two sons of his own who look like they are going to be as great a challenge for his parents as his father was for me. Jesse has turned into a fine, responsible young man and I am immensely proud of him.

Happy birthday, my son.