Make a Wish

You’ve long since been an adult in so many ways, my little Sean, this year marks only a number by someone else’s measure.

You’ve long since been patient and thoughtful, wise about the things that matter.

You are decent and sincere today, as you have been.

Years have gone and never taken your innocence from you, or sullied your joy.

That doesn't mean there isn't work to do.

There are times when you are not in synch with the music of expectation. The honest man will tell you that is part of the becoming, too; where would the drummer find his own beat?

As part of this you are mired in the years of real discovery, of test, and knowing what is true, not for others, but for you.  It can feel like a clouded time, but trust. The fog will part. There are no wishes that make you a man. The work of your life will do that.

In fact, I expect despite all your other accomplishments, in rising to the occasion of adulthood you will really shine. You are as sunny a person as I have ever known.

It's ok to be deliberate, so your arrival has your intention behind it. You own and keep this place for yourself. I don’t doubt your success.

You are loved, Sean, deeply, and with that (and some chocolate) (and peanut-butter) (and now, tequila!), there’s no telling how far you can go.

So, close your eyes. Make a wish. Then work to make it real.

Happy Birthday, Sean. I love you, my little baby.