Happy Birthday, Nick

My two sons were both born within a week of a holiday. Dave, my oldest, born just before Labor Day (seemed appropriate after 30 hours of labor) and Nick was born just two days shy of Independence Day.

We brought Nick home on July 4th to our apartment in Whitehouse, Ohio, entering town at the end of the annual holiday parade. We felt like celebrities as friends and neighbors and members of the church waved and cheered and wanted to see our new addition. Nick doesn't remember anything of his grand welcome. He doesn't remember the heat. He doesn't remember his first sunburn, and he doesn't remember the fireworks. But I will never forget.

I tell him the reason he has red hair is because he's really a firecracker. Corny even when he was young.

So, although we are separated this holiday by hundreds of miles, I will forever associate fireworks and freedom with my youngest son.

Happy Birthday Nick -- and Happy Independence Day.

A couple of years ago Nick brought us a lovely, special gift. It was near my birthday. He knew I had always wanted a daughter. I couldn't want for a better daughter-in-law than his wife: Casandra. She has brought us so much joy and just seeing the way she and Nick look at each other with love overflowing -- makes this mother's heart happy.

So wrapped up in this holiday is not only freedom, but new life, a loving son, and the joys he has given us for the past 29 years. Here's looking forward to the coming year and many, many more!

Furry Wings

Photo by Dawn Goldsmith
Spring arrives on the wings of feathery house hunters.
They flutter against my bedroom window.
The starling couple consider a cozy corner
beneath the window’s awning as a possible nesting site.
My cat, my companion, watches the wings’ rhythmic beating
against the screen, bidding them a plaintive good-by
when the couple flies away to inspect another property in the evergreen tree.

His golden feline eyes search the room and widen
when he spies a small powdery miller resurrected by warmer temperatures.
As the small insect swoops and swirls around the bedroom,
the cat eyes him, switches his tail, and ack-acks his longing for a set of furry wings.
--by Dawn Goldsmith

Previously published in Green Tricycle