Happy Birthday: Eleven

Owen’s birthday celebration happened in bits and snatches last month.  He had a date with grandparents, a small party (that involved The Lego Movie and pizza) and a family dinner.


He keeps getting bigger and bigger, but what I appreciate about him remains the same.

From his earliest days he has loved beauty, whether it manifest as Handel’s Messiah, or the play of leaf shadows across our windows in Chicago, or the freedom of a soaring bird.

He sees beauty, hears beauty, and calls it out in others.

He is also my mischievous one.


He is my non-linear thinker: one who sees outside the box.  Who questions my assumptions. Who thinks of something entirely new.

This year he has learned all sorts of skills in computer programming. He is the one who is always trying to speak Spanish at dinner, and laughing at his own Spanglish.

He has a whole zoo of stuffed animals with different personalities that preferences that don’t always mirror Owen’s own.

This is Po, who prefers to read in my chair.

Eleven is pretty special.  In fact, it’s beautiful.



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