b!X is my son. We didn’t name him that. The name sort of evolved out of his life.
He’s the only son I have, and he lives across this wide county — too far for even birthday visits, although someday, after my caregiving days are over, I just might wind up on his doorstep. Not to stay, of course, but at least to hug.
But for now, it has to be that “check in the mail, buy what you need,” this long-distance birthday best wish, and a comment on his blog. (Maybe the best present he could have gotten, being practically born a Red Sox fan, is the team’s last win, which, here on the East Coast, happened on his birthday.)
So, have a happy birthday, sonbix. Here’s hoping your day is filled with other happy events.