I bet I can guess what you’ll think when I tell you my oldest son, David, turned 39 years old yesterday.
You’ll think: How can Gord, who looks so young, have a son who is actually 39 years old?
I know. I felt the same way when I handed over a birthday card that contained a copy of the photo below.
["Where's the fire, son?": photo GAH, circa 1977]
I feel as if my son, now a firefighter for the city of Toronto, was just six years old and running around the front yard in a freshly painted cardboard box a few short years ago.
Though his age has moved north faster than I’d like to admit, he is still the kid whose smile lights up the room whenever we’re together.
***
Birthday wishes can be sent to David through me at any time.
(“I have a 39-year old son? I guess I do!”)
As well, sympathy cards about my advanced age are appreciated.
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