My friend Debbie’s two daughters were in high school when she experienced severe flu-like symptoms. Debbie visited her family doctor, who told her the flu bug had passed her by. Instead, she had been touched by the “l(fā)ove bug” and was now pregnant.

The birth of Tommy, a healthy, beautiful son, was an event for celebration, and as time went by, it seemed as though every day brought another reason to celebrate the gift of Tommy’s life. He was sweet, thoughtful, fun-loving and a joy to be around.

One day when Tommy was about five years old, he and Debbie were driving to the neighborhood mall. As is the way with children, out of nowhere, Tommy asked, “Mom, how old were you when I was born?”

“Thirty-six, Tommy. Why?” Debbie asked, wondering what his little mind was contemplating.

“What a shame!” Tommy responded.

“What do you mean?” Debbie inquired, more than a little puzzled. Looking at her with love-filled eyes, Tommy said, “Just think of all those years we didn’t know each other.