April 10, 1987

Where were you April 10, 1987? My first child was born that day.

He turned 25 years old today.

I have been a bit lost as to what to do for his birthday.

I count on the universe revealing to me the perfect gift idea as long as I'm open to see.

I headed into work this morning without a clue.

He likes pie.

He likes Red Robin.

He likes many TV series.

He likes anything made of Kevlar.

This is a start but nothing is really clicking with me. I figure I'll just keep driving toward his work to wish him Happy Happy trusting that something will come to me.

Key Peninsula Hwy

Purdy Spit

Hwy 16

I - 5

Still nothing. Balloons? Big Mac? (You'd have to know Colin to know just how funny that was.) I know I can't go wrong with bullets but in my world, the gift needs to fit the 'giver' as much as the 'givee.' Bullets are not my idea of the perfect gift. Okay, well maybe in some unique and specific situations. But generally speaking, no.

Driving past the Tacoma Mall, watching all the idiots realizing at the last second that they need to take the 56th street exit and cutting across the lanes.

Thinking "gift, gift, gift. Need the perfect gift."

Thinking "There's a K-Mart between me and his work, maybe there will be something..." (kidding)

Then I catch a glimpse of the Ted Brown music store in the corner of my eye. I cut across the lanes between me and the 72nd street exit and next thing I know I'm driving past Hooters and on to Ted Brown.

My son is a drummer. And he'd never tell you how much he loves it or how talented he is, but I will. Another time.

I know he needs a new snare for his kit but I don't know the first thing about what kind, what brand, what color. No, that's not true, I'd be pretty good at finding the best color. Then it hit me. Since he first got his drum kit in junior high school he's wanted a double base pedal. And the sweet relief of knowing, I've just hit the perfect gift idea. *sigh*

I got the best one I could afford. Packed it into my trunk and headed to his work. It's a bit of a drive. He is not expecting me.

"What are you doing here?" He's not unhappy but surprised.

"Wishing you Happy Birthday," I say. "Come out to the car. I have something for you."

"What?" he asks as we walk to where I've parked.

"Birthday cake. A big, sugary thing with inch thick frosting and sprinkles all over."

"I hate birthday cake. I'd rather have pie."

"Sorry, I got you a cake."

I popped the trunk. I watch his face. He gingerly lifts the flap on the plain cardboard box. (He's always on alert for booby traps.)

"What did you do?" he asks. Unable to keep the glee out of his voice, which is very unusual for this kid.

I'm giddy. "I know, right!"

My eyes water. "Oh I wish I'd taken the day off," he says. "Then I'd be able to go set it up and play right now." He could not have said Thank You more clearly.

I was so happy.

He was so happy.

Considering our beginnings together, this is a miracle. These few minutes before I head to my job for the day.

My son. 25 years old today. He's an amazing kid. I am blessed beyond measure.