I have to admit, writing this post has proven to be a colossal challenge – and then some.
Its not that I don’t love my mother, but I ask you, are a few paltry words sufficient compensation for bestowing life to another human being? In my forty-two years on this plane of existence I’ve managed – sometimes against all odds - to have a great life.
- I have a job that has yielded much more than financial rewards; its given me an outlet for my creative energies.
- I have the best family any man could ask for. They bust my “you-know-whats” whenever they can, but they still rock.
- My friends include colleagues, bloggers and the same bunch of guys I’ve known since childhood. How many people can say that?
It appears to be fashionable these days to share some sort of childhood trauma with the world; I’ve lost track of the number of celebrities who claim to have suffered abuse at the hands of a loved one during their formative years.
I grew up surrounded by love. If I needed something, I got it. More importantly, if I wanted something, I got it. Now I’m a father and the circle has closed; its my turn to guide another human being along the right path using common sense, friendship, compassion and love as the compass.
To the world at large, you’re Karin. To me, you’ll always be “Mom”. And I love you.
Happy Birthday, Mom. And thanks.
What else is there to say?
So do me a favor, folks, and wish Mom a happy birthday, all right?