Liam brought me over to the granite ridge near our house to show me the carpenter ant hive he had discovered last year before he went off to college. We walked along a trail dotted with wildflowers, jumped over a small creek and were at last near a fallen, decaying, massive trunk of a tree broken into several sections. For several minutes we watched the ants busily going in and out of a crack in one of the sections, Liam pointing out how they worked to push little scraps of sawdust out onto the dirt below, how intricate and quick their work is, little details that were almost invisible to my eyes.
Today is his twentieth birthday. I was not that much older than he is now when he was first given into my arms as a newborn. It’s strange to think that, as I discussed with him this morning, that his memories now will be clear, adult ones. I can remember so clearly how I thought and felt as a 20 year old. It is not so different from how I think and feel now, even though I am more than twice that age.
He asked for Pierre De La Rue’s Lamentations for his birthday. He got some other CDs and a couple of books and games. We went to Mass. We had a vanilla cake (Aidan blew out the candles) and watched Liam get his presents (Aidan helped me wrap them and eagerly helped Liam open them!). We said our usual Chaplet of Divine Mercy and then just a decade of our usual Rosary, since it had gotten late and Liam had a cold. The other kids went to watch Amadeus while he went to bed.
Tomorrow we’ll be going to Grandma’s house to spend the night and then, Aidan’s surgery. Tomorrow’s also Father’s Day. The next day’s our anniversary, and next week is Brendan’s 18th birthday. Seems so strange somehow — when I think of that newborn Liam. So much has happened since then, and still it seems like such a short time.
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