What I Love Most About My Son: The Sequel (Part 2)

Dear Michael,

Well, how you felt as a baby, putty in my hands – I loved that.

And how you look in more recent photos, with that too-cool-for-school expression still on your face – love that, too.

Oh, and how you’re now keeping regular business hours, syncing up with the world around you – love that as well.

Nothing I put down here is going to do justice to the love I feel, it’s true depth. An act doomed to futility! Still, how can I in good conscience let it go without trying? No chance. So let me bring this little book home. And tell you what I love most about you.

How your face looked in the moonlight in Southhampton, back around 1986, as I carried you outside the cottage we rented, how your eyes beamed as you looked up at all the stars glittering in the sky that night, the constellations a canopy as your mouth opened in awe. I loved that, and to this day love it still.

How you took your lumps with that girlfriend of yours, really sustained some serious bruises, injuries to internal organs, too, but then you came back, ever the romantic, your belief in love unflagging, and picked yourself a winner. Love it.

How your attitude toward me has changed, how your respect for my professional opinions has suddenly grown, and how it’s as if you’re finally able to see me for who I am for the first time after all these years. Love that, too.

Oh, so much more to say here – about how you act around others, so gentlemanly and how well you write, how your appreciation of movies is evolving into true discernment and sophistication, and how you’re trying to make a career for yourself and get yourself going, none of it easy as I well know.

I love all that, and also, most important, how well you remember the one no longer here, who still counts so much now and forever, a source of light and warmth for all of us as strong as the sun.

P.S. – Part 3 will appear tomorrow.

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