He’s 34 now

A small photo of my son in his elementary school basketball uniform toppled over when I reached for something else on the same shelf. Hmmm. I hope he’s okay. The next day was his 34th birthday and he was on my mind all day as I went about my normal Sunday routine. Honestly, I half expected to see him sitting on the chair on the porch when I came home from Zumba mid-afternoon. He was not there and of course there was no phone call or electronic message from him. I do not have either his phone number or address to express my good wishes for his day, nor to verify that all is well with him. I just sighed and went on. Early the next afternoon the Red Cross called here to advise him about locations for blood donations in the next month, nearby and I advised them he does not live here.   She said she would adjust her records.

I suppose that was enough like synchronicity to go hunting for him again, on the internet, so I did and for a change found a good lead and copied a lengthy series of essays that he wrote, some videos he posted and recorded into and one photo of him. I have learned to be content with small gifts from the universe.


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