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Today was one of those days that definitely goes down as a bad one. Don’t have too many of them, but today qualified. The details don’t matter because everyone’s bad day is relative but suffice it to say it included the dog getting onto the glass table in the living room and cat throw-up my kids failed to clean in a timely manner, and those were the better parts. My sore foot throbs after a day in English class so I rested on the couch to recover. And called my kid in NYC.

That’s when the day improved with a sweet unexpected discussion with my son of 21. Just when I need it and without even asking, he’s the guy I want him to be full of words that make it all feel a little bit better. And I didn’t even complain about my bad day, I just listened to his life, and told him about mine, and just was with him as we shared ourselves freely. The two of us have a pretty special bond that I count on at times like this, so maybe that is why I called. Just to hear his voice, and to hear him talk to me.

There was a day once that I dreamed about such a thing as this: a kid of mine I’d raised to be someone I loved and who loved me.

Well, really, there were a lot of days I dreamed that, and on so many of them as he grew up I tried so hard to make it come true.

And somehow I did.