How to make me happy

He turned 18 today. I miss him but he's where he should be, in an environment that secures his future, with people who are guiding him in ways we were unable to. This time last year, I wasn't sure he'd see his future. Now I know that sometimes we have to start over and sometimes those times come just in time. That's his case.

We spoke yesterday. His voice was clear, strong, happy. He said to me that he made me a garden stone for mother's day. He went on to say that even though I'm not his mom, he appreciates everything I've done for him, and he loves me. On my end, I held the phone and wiped a tear from my eye. A happy tear. Our conversation skimmed across the surface of other things - school, pizza, his sister, Cheyenne - and then landed on his birthday. We talked about his decisions now being on his own shoulders of responsibility and he talked about how it sounded frightening at first but now it's starting to feel good. I reached to wipe another tear. When we were getting ready to hang up, he said, I love you Aunt Alison. Happy Mother's Day.

I speak with him every Sunday, but yesterday, the last Sunday of his 17th year, that was a special conversation.