He wasn't the billionith (sp?) child born--but he was the most important in my life--my one and only. Today is the 42nd birthday of Brandon Scott Thomas. Looking back on that cold November day when we brought him home to Potosi, I can't help but think of the blue blanket (made by Pat Phillips) in which he was wrapped, and the Manhattan Supper Soup she brought by--yum. We have eaten it every winter since.
We put him in the bed borrowed from Wanda and Fred Hughes, wound the little nursery rhyme mobile (still have it somewhere!) and hoped he would sleep a little while. Sam and I both just stood, looked and sighed over this treasure from heaven.
After listening to him cry for what seemed like hours, this little treasure lost some of its luster. Fortunately, my mother was visiting, and she knew just the right technique to soothe him. Sam and I wearily shook our heads about what we did not know about babies. We were bound to learn a lot in the next few years, and we enjoyed every minute around our red-haired, blue-eyed explosion. He made our lives exciting, energetic, (sometimes frenetic) and full of laughter and joy.
While Sam is gone, Brandon still does those things for me. I thank God every day for this sweet baby and fine man he has put in my life. I can't imagine my life without him, without all the memories, and without each day's joy. What a treasure!
Happy birthday, Babe. I love you. Mom
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