If I Had a Son

If I had a son, he’d be a pilot. He’d be flying and soaring higher than any of his friends. I’d have a bumper sticker that says “My son is an honor student.” He would climb the tallest peaks of the mountains of his dreams, hop up a few clouds and bang on the biggest doors, demanding to be let in and he wouldn’t stop until he was allowed over the threshold.

If I had a son, he’d be a baseball player. He would be the best player that little league ever saw because he would strike the others out with each pitch. And every time he swung and hit the ball with a loud crack, the bat would splinter. He would be the fastest runner, rounding home base at least three times before the other team even got the ball to the infield. The rest of the team wouldn’t be needed; he’d be a one-man show.

If I had a son, he’d be a thinker. He would tell me that he has a new idea every day. And on a normal Tuesday afternoon, he would tell me that he needs a hat and a flag and when I ask him why, he’d tell me he’s going to have a parade. When he gets older, he would have more sophisticated ideas. Ideas that are of him owning his own business, or ideas that benefit others.

Because if I had a son, he’d be selfless. He would cry whenever the ASPCA commercials came on and when he sees the ones for the less fortunate children, he would say “Mom, we need to send them money so he can have the race car track like mine.” And if I tell him that it’s not in our budget, he’ll take that racetrack and tell me that we need to go to the post office so he can mail it to them.

If I had a son, I would love him so much that it hurt. I would work three jobs if I had to, so that he would want for nothing. He would have the strong will that I’ve instilled in him. He would be independent, but he would still happy to come home for Sunday dinners.