If You Can’t Take the Corn, Get Out of the Field

1 Jul

Happy Birthday baby, 3 hours ish until the 20th anniversary of your escape from the womb. The distance is heartache homicide, and I wish nothing more than sharing this day with you and a cohort of quasi-potty trained 4 year olds. But soon enough…

Coming to understand You has been coming to understand Myself. In a few words, with you, there have been times when I’ve laughed, cried, argued, celebrated, all over Nothing. I’ve actually relished moments at Bovard and Sinai Scholars ( thus, disproving multiple scientific theories); when my raised eyebrows meet your smirk, our cynicism unites and all else fades away… You asked me if I think of you as a man or a boy at the turn of your last tween year into your early twenties. I said that a ‘man’ connotes more life experience that that of a 20 year old, like having kids or living/working/paying all bills independently. But ya know what- I partially revoke my answer. If one needs more years to get more life experience to gain more insight and wisdom and general and random human competence to be a man, then I was wrong because you have wisdom and insight already so that nixes the must-be-alive-for-another-decade argument. If annual public school testing taught me anything, it’s when I think I have the right answer to verify it through another source. So here’s the verification: when life happens, we fall together instead of fall apart. Enough said.

Happy birthday, see you SO SO SOOOOON!


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