It gets harder and harder to come back to writing when I let time go by, so consider this the first of many posts to come.

I’m ready to come back to writing regularly. (See also: I have found someone to finish the re-design for me at a decent price. That’ll happen in January.)

What better way to practice my blog writing than to write a love letter to one of my children? Mason turned 19 this month and it gets more difficult to celebrate birthdays in our traditional way as they become more complex in their birthday wishes. I mean, yeah, Mason is a man now but I’m pretty sure he’d still be willing to take a pony as a gift and have a whole fort made out of cake and lollipops.

Dear Mason,

You still don’t look like you belong to me. I was hoping you might grow into some color some day. That Grandpa Mel’s melanin would finally make its way to you. Alas. That just ain’t happenin’. But you are becoming more broad shouldered and you totally look like a grown man when I see you far off. Usually, I just wonder, “Hey. Who is that man coming this way?” and then your face comes into focus and I think, “MY GOD, THAT’S MY BABY.” Notice how I stopped screeching that aloud so as no to embarrass you but instead write it on the Internet? That’s progress, son.

You have some gifts, Mason. You have found them, too, but I won’t stop reminding you of how great you are with students nor how amazing you are at helping out at church with youth group. No one tells you to get up and go to church, either. That’s pretty commendable for a kid man your age. By the time I was 19… well, let’s just save that for another time, shall we? I’m not sure what you’re doing in this picture that I swiped from your Facebook page, but this is AWESOME. It looks like fun. My three guesses as to what you were doing are:

1. You lost a bet and had to participate in a paper fashion show.

2. No one believed you when you told them you could pop out of a cake so this was your audition.

3. Dressing up as a Christmas Captain Hook due to your love of all things Peter Pan. BANG-A-RANG.

What do you think he’s doing here? And why is the word CONSPIRACY in the background? Wasn’t this taken at church?

Mason. I’m still hard on you and I have high expectations up to which you must live. You can expect more of that. Go ahead and roll your eyes at me when I have the audacity to parent you. That is okay by me. You have a habit of getting frustrated with me and coming back to talk about it every single time. You still want to talk walks with me. You share every new song you hear. You grab the laptop out of my hands to show me just one more movie trailer for some show that’s coming out 18 months from now. You have a fascination of British films and actors. You still seek justice where there is injustice. You are working on your authoritative voice. You steal all of your brother’s sweaters. You have an unnatural love of cream soda.

You may not look like me, but you are most decidedly my son.

Happy belated birthday, Mason.