“Middle” is a misnomer when applied to this young man for anything other than his spot in the birth order. I don’t blog about him much because he’s the un-squeaky wheel among my children, a quality for which I should praise him more often. He copes well with adversity and change, and he’s comfortable in his own skin. Nothing much ruffles him. He’s insightful, eloquent, handsome, and charming. He puts people at ease, and they like him. He has good relationships with both his siblings and often functions as the bridge between them when they’re bumping heads over some trivial issue that seems enormous at the time.
I suppose there’s such a thing as being too easygoing, and if he has a flaw, that’s probably it. Not bad as flaws go, certainly not fatal. We share a love for history, art, and video games. We need our “alone time,” though he’s more gregarious than I am. We like tramping about the wilderness, and we both enjoy sports, though he’s a much more talented athlete and ardent fan than me.
I’m incredibly proud of his accomplishment. I wish the economy was better, and I’m already aching over the struggles I know he’s going to face in the transition from college to working life. A degree still opens doors, but it doesn’t go as far these days as it used to. I want to see him secure and settled, in a good position with a clearer road ahead. I’m not too worried—this one always lands on his feet—but maturity and emotional balance aren’t always rewarded in a world that runs on flash and panic.
The upside is that he’s home for awhile working small jobs and sending out resumes, and we’ll have more time together. Those were some long years away at school. I’ve missed him. I hope the feeling was mutual.
Congratulations, son. The world’s spread out before you. Go hit it in the face.