for you, sam.

i like to wonder about the day you were born.

the excitement and anticipation your parents felt...

the exhaustion at 4:23 in the morning, as they first witnessed your small 7lb 12oz newborn body...

as they melted when they first touched your soft black hair...

and swelled when they fell into your dark brown eyes...

when you weren't sleeping, of course.

and they wondered who you were going to be,

what adventures you would have,

and someday - seemingly eons away - the family you'd someday have of your very own, continuing on this most precious cycle of love and joy,

of trials and heartache, 

of triumph and growth.

what magic lay in this tiny and most tender package sent from heaven?

sometimes i feel like i've known you forever.

the lines are blurry where we come together.

i hear the stories of the days when you flooded kitchens and painted cars and neighbor's garage's with sticky, black tar.

i listen to happy stories, sad stories, scary stories, funny stories, sport stories, mission stories, hero stories, and watch home videos of you as a gangly little kid, the same as me...

and suddenly without any warning, after all the stories of childhood have been told, the eons have passed and now you're all grown up with a family of your very own.

for the most part, your parents don't have to wonder what kind of person you'll become, because we all know now...

you are kind, you are good, you are loving, you are loyal.

you are intelligent, you are thoughtful, you are wise.

you are sarcastic, you are bursting with energy and life, you are funny as heck and can work a crowd like no other.

and even though your family drives you crazy, you love us to no end, day in and day out. 

happy 35 years, sam.

we are so grateful and so very privileged to be on this journey with you.

we love you to no end, too.