My oldest son, Christopher, is turning 20 tomorrow. Today I went to the Hallmark store to try to find him a birthday card. Am I the only one who abhores picking out greeting cards? I must have read almost every single card there was. Nothing seemed to fit. I wanted to find something funny and encouraging– but couldn’t find a thing. I originally by-passed the section with the cards that have deep colors and swirly fonts on the front. You know the ones with SON written in huge sweeping letters. Finally, out of desperation, I picked up a few of the sentimental types and almost burst into tears. And I’m not even menopausal! Was it the thought of my “baby” turning twenty? It hadn’t really occurred to me that this was a milestone, but yes, it is because tomorrow my son will be exiting the teen years. But wait, it can’t be that significant if Hallmark doesn’t even a have section for the 20th birthday. They just skip from sweet sixteen to twenty-one. What’s so great about 21 anyhow? Wait. I know . . . he can start drinking legally! Whoop de doo! And here he’s been able to vote and get killed in the military for two years already. I didn’t even look at the 21 yr. old cards. I figure they’re all about getting wasted t.
I was trying to think about where I was at in my head when I was twenty. But it’s too long ago to remember. I think I was just passing time until I was twenty-one and could drink legally!
But really, why would I get so teary-eyed in the Hallmark aisle? I think I need to buy a bigger sized pair of pants. There’s not much more in life that’s as depressing to contemplate as that. With the exception of coping with a mother who’s drifing away in an Alzheimer haze. I guess sometimes it’s all just too much to take.