When You Care Enough to Send . . .

My older son's birthday is Saturday and I found the perfect card to send him.

TJ is not like anybody else. I've frequently said he lives on another planet and I'm not even sure which solar system it's in. I don't think he'd be insulted by that statement. I think he'd be proud.

I stood at the card counter and opened every card in the "Son" section. Mushy, smooshy, drivel. "Having a son like you …", "When you were little …", "Son, my heart …". Each one was a little softer and sappier than the previous one. There was nothing in any of these cards that described my son or our relationship.

Buying cards has been a problem my whole adult life. I refuse to send a card just to be sending a card. I want it to say what I'm feeling. And my feelings are complex.

I don't love my mother. I respect her. I try to be a good daughter to her. But the only times I feel any love for her are when I'm sick and wanting to be pampered. So to send a card that says, "You're the best mother in the world" just ain't gonna happen. She's not the best mother in the world. If they just made a card that said, "Thanks for trying so hard", I'd grab four and send one each year. (She's 96. She's not gonna remember!)

I've been known to be so tickled by cards I've read that I repeat the description and the text to friends. I think it was my buddy JW who said he never knew anyone to get such a charge out of the card aisle.

TJ's card? "Son, you're unique."

Perfect!