An Open Letter to Patrick:

Hey hotshot. You're fourteen years old today and I can scarcely believe it. Has it really been that long since I held you in my arms in the maternity ward of the hospital? For almost 1/3rd of my life you've been a part of me.

You've known for some time now that you were adopted by your mother and I. We had tried to conceive for years, tried expensive treatements and surgeries, and had begun to look into the idea of adopting. The opportunity was suddenly staring us right in the face. For months before your birth we prepared for the new baby that was to be part of our lives. I remember painting the baby bed, going shopping for baby clothes, and buying all those gadgets that new parents think they must have. I was to be a father and I was so excited I could barely stand myself.

I took you to a high school prom when you were one day old. The high school girls and the teachers swarmed around you all night, and I was so very proud. I was a dad! You were my son! I had a baby boy! Your mom took off work for a couple of months to be with you and then summertime came and I had you all to myself during the day. I was a new dad and had all kinds of things to learn. I became a semi-expert at mixing formula, washing bottles, and putting you down for the night. So many times I'd hold that bottle to your mouth, rock you back and forth, sing to you, and watch you fall asleep. I'd tiptoe down the hall to your room, gently lay you in bed, and as soon as I started to walk away, you'd wake up and start crying. I took you everywhere with me that summer. We went fishing together, picked blackberries, took walks in the woods, and ran around in my little truck.

I remember your first words, your first steps, the first time you ate "big people food", and your first birthday when you delighted in smearing that cake everywhere. I changed countless diapers, learned the fine art of burping a baby, shopped for your clothes, and took you swimming for the first time. You were such a happy infant, always smiling and laughing, loving and friendly.

As you grew we came to understand that you were special. You weren't like "everyone else". Those differences became obvious as you entered pre-school. You had your own unique ways, fascination with swords and umbrellas, a love of cartoons, one of the funniest laughs I've ever heard, and a creative streak that would continue to flourish. Do you remember when I used to lay on my back on the bed, put my feet up, balance you on them, and hold my hands with yours? We would rock side to side and I would sing The Doors "Roadhouse Blues" to you as you cackled with glee. Roll baby roll. Remember when you demanded that I sing, "Rocky Mountain High" and "Take Me Home Country Roads" to you every night?

You delighted in Dr. Seuss stories, knowing all the words to a number of those tales. One of your favorites was "Yertle The Turtle". You would climb up on top of me and pretend to be at the peak of a "nine turtle stack." You knew all the words to "Green Eggs and Ham" . You loved those little story books with the sound buttons on the side. We read those books until they were worn out. Do you remember the birthday where my brother-in-law and I spent all day putting together a swingset while keeping you out of the backyard? The next day at your party you received an umbrella among the gifts. When we walked you to the backdoor you walked out and said, "Oh, a swingset." Then you walked back in and asked, "where's my umbrella?" I should've known.

Along the way you learned how to make some of the most mystifying messes I've ever seen and the fine art of raiding the refrigerator and eating the dinner ingredients planned for that night's meal. You can be terribly frustrating at times Patrick, but of course you know that. But if people only see that side of you , they miss so very much. You are the most loving boy I've ever known. Those who know you the best love you the most. Your teachers at school always become taken with you and are quite protective. Your cousins learn how to play games "The Patrick Way". Your grandparents love your unique sense of humor. You do have a way of saying the funniest things at the funniest times. Your uncles have enjoyed dueling swords with you and taking you to movies and sporting events. Your mom still loves you from an ocean away. Others who have been part of your life have also found those endearing traits that I enjoy so much. You are one-of-a-kind, my son.

I love the way you crack that crooked smile when you've said something funny. I love the way you play "Star Trek" with me in the car. Make it so #1. Engage warp engines. Set navigational controls for home. Engage. I love the way you can take a 2 liter bottle, a bread twisty tie, a piece of construction paper, and a stick found outside, and make something that looks like a work of art. I love the way you always try to renegotiate when you are told no. "Ok Dad, I meant we could go to Fuddruckers NEXT weekend. Can we go to McDonald's tonight?" I love the way you come up and give me a hug and tell me you're glad to see me. I love the way you can be so gentle with your sister. I love that serious look on your face when you're preparing to run a Special Olympics race.

We've ran quite a road in these fourteen years, haven't we? From my farm baby, to my precocious pre-schooler, to my growing boy, and now into a young man. I've been there every step of the way and I will always be there for you. I may not have always been the perfect dad.
I may have lost my temper with you too many times. I may have been frustrated. I may not have always known what to do. But you know something Patrick? I've also loved you in the unique way that a father can love his son. I'm so proud of you, so excited for your future, and so awed by your talents. As you prepare to grow into manhood, your daddy is proud to be by your side.

I love you Patrick. Happy 14th Birthday.
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