Dear Son,

The wonder of your fingers – after seven hours of labor, it was your fingers I noticed first. Long and slim. And those long legs – an athlete in the making? You mewed like a little kitten and looked up at me in wonder. But the fingers, like mine. Maybe not an athlete, but a piano player? Your hard work to succeed in everything. Your first steps. The look of pride for jobs well done. "Top Male Athlete." Your lost loves and found loves. Your rages against unfairness, your euphoria of university acceptance, the look of pride and anticipation at your first permanent job after University. And now, you are a high school physical education teacher. How could I be more proud of you today, just like the day you were born?

Love,
Mom

P.S. Could you just learn how to wear a ski vest!

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