My No. 1 son wished me a happy birthday by electronic mail, which I found this morning. And in perfect Croatian. It was still my birthday in New York, where the message came from. He proceeded by apologizing for long silences, and promised to be better at keeping in touch. And then he came up with a few wonderful words about us two:

You know I love you deeply and every day, right? You have always been a superhero to me. I talk of you often to friends and colleagues, as well as potential girlfriends, for you have a relatively epic stature in my consciousness. This all goes without saying. That’s what a father is to a son, but of course you’re a rather distinct sort of fellow. What you’ve lacked in physical presence in my life, you’ve obviously made up for in mythology.

I congratulated him on his way with words, but I concluded that I wished to hear from him a bit more often. Indeed, I get pretty worried when I do not hear from him for a few weeks. It would be even better if he came to see me in Motovun, but that is perhaps a bit too much to ask for. The last time he visited me was two years ago. But it feels like a decade by now. So much for mythology this time around.