Today is my middle son Michael's birthday. 48 years ago he came into this world, 6 pounds of screaming, fiesty, independent baby. I know you're not supposed to play favorites with your children but of my three son's he's my favorite. He's most like me, not a dreamer like his older brother and not like his younger brother who calls once a year to let me know he's moved yet again. He remembers my birthday, calls me on every holiday.
He shows up every year for our family renunion, hasn't missed but one in 15 years while his brothers show up sporadically.
He's his own person, marches to his own drum. I don't have to entertain him when he visits, he entertains himself. I don't have to look after him. I hand him my house keys, the truck keys, the tent and he takes care of himself. Not like my older son , and his wife who expect and need to be entertained the whole time they are here with their three sons and not like my youngest son who thinks every wrong thing that happens in his life is somehow my fault. He accepts me with all of my faults and loves me unconditionally. He's very special to me, and I love him dearly.
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