Attaining Legality, Stage One

The Son turned 18 today. Quite a momentous occasion for him (of course), but also for me as a parent. Although every birthday and significant date within a child's life is important to his/her parents, there are certain ones that are more significant than others. Their first birthday/Christmas/day at school/change of school (i.e. Primary -> Secondary)/thirteen/sixteen/leaving school ... you get the idea. Eighteen, for me, is one of those MAJOR major milestones dates in their life. This one, being the first time a child of mine has reached it, is doubly important to me.

Looking back over the last eighteen years at all the ups and downs that have taken place brings quite a lump to my throat. I could spout cliches and instances ad infinitum, about how no one could have thought that "... a baby that size could grow into ..." or how it was "... a shot out of the left field that ...", but I won't. I have my memories of the past years safely stored; to write about them here would only make as to cheapen them. I don't mean that in a bad way, but I just don't see the need to relate a story here for the sake of it.

Anyway, getting back to the day in question. Truthfully, the way things have turned out, this certainly wasn't the way I'd pictured spending my son's 18th birthday. Of course, it couldn't be helped. He's away at college, currently in the throes of taking his end-of-year exams so a trip for either of us in either direction wouldn't be practical or feasible. I was able to speak with him this evening, though. He was happy to report that he'd had a good day with his friends. They'd gone to the beach this afternoon and had a small party and a barbecue. (No alcohol, as he's got a sailing exam in the morning.) I'm glad that he's been able to spend it as he wanted. (We'd tried to arrange for a small, semi-surprise, gathering here last weekend, but he scuppered those plans by announcing that he wouldn't be coming home until the end of July when he finishes college. Best laid plans, and all that!)

I'm so proud to be able to call him "my son", and proud of what he's made of his life. A parent wishes his/her child all that they weren't able to have/do in their life ... so far, he's done more and been further than I've been in mine. I don't regret that, or wish things could have been different. Far from it. Wherever he is, and whatever he's doing, he'll always be my only son.

One thing I will share is a 'pet' name I had for him (and I still call him it from time to time) ... Spud. Why? Well, he's my 'chip off the old block' ... chips are made from potatoes ... nickname for potatoes? Spud! Follow the logic. It works.