Happy Birthday, Dan!

What a busy day, Ms J! I was at work from 4:45 this morning, until 9:00. Then I got in my car and drove downtown to an old church building at Carlton St and Sherbourne. That's where Mixed Company leases their office and rehearsal space. The historical plaque on the outside wall indicates it was first built as a Methodist church in 1879. The rehearsal was intense and lasted until 3:30, when I left to fight the traffic all the way to Acton.

I took Dan out for a pizza dinner and dessert. I even bought us each a glass of beer to acknowledge his attaining legal drinking age. (19) We clinked our glasses and I proposed a toast. "To a happy future." We had a nice visit. It wasn't nearly as stressful as I'd feared. Dan mentioned the fact that he had to appear in court tomorrow morning and hinted at the possibility of me driving him. I told him no.

"I can't, Dan. I work until 9:00 and then I have to be downtown to rehearse a new play."

He didn't seem surprised.

"Alright, Dad. I can do it myself. I'll figure out a way to get myself there. It's been just me lately, doing everything for myself."

I told him that's what it means to be an adult. Your parents can't look after you forever. It hurts me not to help him, Ms J. But that's the only way he'll learn.

He didn't actually mention the pregnancy. Not specifically, anyway. But he hinted that his Life was taking a big turn and heading in a new direction. I told him that while I wasn't thrilled with his behaviour lately, and with the choices he's been making, I still love him. I will always love him. He's my son. I told him that, Ms Journal. In those exact words.

On the street outside his mother's house, I took his big hand in both of mine and squeezed it tightly. He looked into my face with his clear blue eyes.

"I know you love me, Dad. I love you too."

"I just wish, Daniel, that you loved yourself as much as I love you. I wish you could understand how valuable you are, how important you are. To me."

"Really?"

"Yes, son. Really."

He smiled then and got out of the car.

"Thanks for coming, Dad. Thanks for dinner. It's the only birthday present I've got today."

Dinner. Pfff. The things he most desperately needs, I am unable to give him. He must somehow discover them for himself. I pray he will soon. Happy birthday, son. And good luck tomorrow.

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