Florentine light in Philadelphia, my son's joy, and two half moons

Philadelphia this September is Florentine light and half moons.  It is the old Drake and the new performing arts hall.  It is walking beside my son (taller now, even more handsome), who tells stories of new friends and old, four concurrent office projects, a place called Whisper, laundry rooms. 

I didn't live as fully as my son now lives when I was his age.  I didn't know half as much, didn't have nearly the number of friends, didn't see the future as clearly as he sees his future.  He has a greater talent for joy, a larger embrace of life, a more intelligent reading of other people and their intentions, a greater forgiveness of those who get things wrong.  He has more, and he has earned more.  He is more complete.

Which in the end (and of course) completes me.