Dear Deal on Your 16th Birthday

Dear Deal,

I write this on a cloudy day as I remember the morning you were born 16 years ago, sunny side up. You always hate when I say that. You’re a teenage boy, and I’m a 50-something mom, so you pretty much hate everything I say. But that doesn’t stop me from saying stuff and it doesn’t stop you from hanging out with me.

We have spent the last 8539 days together under the same roof, and I think we are all happy to have a spacious house, despite its terrible wifi, and we all still like each other. A highlight of this time together has been lazy family time on the giant sectional couch that I’m glad Dad finally broke down and bought after you and brother broke the supports of our last couch. We all sprawled out, fighting over the burrito blanket (that’s MINE!), and happily watched TV while indulging in snacks. Dad likes to say I’ve been “pandemic mom,” offering up cakes and gummi bears and brownies nightly. I share my special secret stash of chocolate too, but truth be told, there’s still a secret bounty of Sour Patch Kids hidden away just for me (but you know that I’ll share because sneaking sweets alone isn’t as fun). 

I have cherished this time home with you, and that feeling is ever more punctuated by the fact that your big brother is off to college in another time zone soon. I love the clomping and stomping that radiates from your room as you storm through the door and barrel down the stairs asking, “What are we gonna do tonight?” I love how you read so many headlines on Twitter that your dinner conversations are a string of non sequiturs that are equal parts poignant and pitiful. We groan a lot, but inside, we are all duly impressed with your ability to retain information. You’re a walking encyclopedic hurricane. I continue to be amazed at how you can be engrossed in your phone (UGH) yet chime in to sweep an entire Jeopardy category that’s playing in the background. I guess all those facts from the WWI and military weapons books you devoured as a kid settled in the folds of your brain. 

You amaze me in so many ways.

I am moved by your tenderness and your keen ability to read people with both measured skepticism and unyielding acceptance. You love unconditionally in ways that we can learn from, and you are fiercely protective of those you love. You’ve grown to a giant in front of my very eyes, so your height now matches your heart in size. But regardless of your height, you’ll always be my baby boy. I teeter on my tiptoes to kiss you goodnight, and it’s precious when you bend your head down to make it easier for me to reach. I love you so much. Words are my currency, yet I can’t find the right ones to express what a treasure you are. Along with my puns, bad jokes, snark, inappropriate “that’s what she said” jokes, and quick to judge temperament, you hate when I am treacly sweet, but listen, you’re 16 today so I have license to gush.

16 years of the Real Deal. 

Ever since you were born, the world has indeed been a sunnier place.