New Poem: Golden Boy

Back in February, Alexander turned fifteen. But at the time, we were in Montana. In fact, the entire day was taken up with graduation activities. This was Alex's Golden birthday, a phrase I had never heard of before. But Alex seemed to think it was a big deal.  I have been thinking about writing him a special birthday poem for awhile now, but have never just sat down and did it. Until the past few day. 

So, here's to you, Alexander. Happy Golden Birthday!!!

Golden Boy

 

“And fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world.”

                                                -As You Like it, William Shakespeare

 

Once in a lifetime for most, twice if you are lucky

The stars align, the number converge

The date on the calendar matched the number of years

You’ve traveled this world. For you it is this year

Fifteen on the fifteenth of February. Fifteen squared—two hundred and twenty-five

A number of no other significance than what it signifies.

 It was your day, your golden day, this once in a lifetime day

Only it was spent away from home and friends

Celebrating your sister’s graduation. And though

You chafed at the usurpation, your true mettle shown though.

There are three hundred and sixty-four days left to celebrate

My golden boy, my happy-go-lucky boy.

 
That fifteenth day, born barely past the midnight hour

By sheer force of will and a colluding nurse.

Seems like yesterday. You have grown it seems in an instant

Tiny infant to twenty pounds and more,

Tongue-tied to toddler to teenager

Always with a ready smile and a tangential thought.

 
You are a thinker. Deep thoughts on the road to school

While I sing along to the radio and annoy you.

You grouse at the sound, but always with a slight smile on your face

As if you really secretly enjoy it. I listen as you

Explain the finer points of Minecraft grateful for the

Time spent just being with you. It will pass soon enough.

In many ways you remain a mystery to me.

Perhaps that is the gap that always exists between
Mother and son, if Dr. Freud is to be believed
Though I have my doubts. Perhaps it is in the fundamental
Differences between men and women, but that doesn’t matter to me.
What matters is this: You are my boy, my sunny boy. And I will love you always.