There is a point where, well, everything is just crazy. Things are happening fast but everything seems so slow. We want to get there, but have no idea where there is and maybe there’s no real rush to arrive. It’s warm here, why leave? And this singular moment is stretched thin under such tension that something’s gotta snap. And it does, from time to time. All the frustration and fear lashes out like a whip on a drill, striking the people we love the most, innocent bystanders too close for their own good, and even ourselves. No matter how firmly we place our feet on the ground, how deeply we dig in our heels, we’re pulled forward kicking and screaming, our hands burned from the rope tied around our waists, and it starts all over again.

Maybe it’s different for you. I spend a lot of time imagining you, what you would say, how you see and hear the world. What does it all mean through your eyes? Maybe this time is all bells and whistles and an eagerness to blow this one horse town. Maybe the future is an invitation to a life you’ve been longing to get to and we’ve been the anchor desperately holding you in place. Maybe our hopes and fears are burdens that you just wish you could pivot, shrug and be free of. We mean you no harm. And what do we mean to you? I think, he would think that’s a stupid question, can’t you guys see? There is a certain kind of blindness that I’ve tried over the years to see past, to account for. The parent that sees no wrong in their child. The father that sees too much of something they disapprove of. Sometimes I think I see you truly, as you are, and I am overjoyed. Sometimes you remind me I don’t have the slightest clue and I have to redo all my calculations and stipulations.

I have to say, the last couple of years have been heartbreaking for me. Not for the reasons that you think. We talk about having shared long days together when you were younger, before you started going to school. Quiet, timeless moments. And while I long for those days that’s not what saddens me. It is not the intervening years that were tumultuous (somewhat, gotta give you some credit here: you were a far better teenager than I ever was). What hurts is we are continuing to build the thing we started all those years ago. That it was always being built but we took it for granted. We entering into new territory and I fear I didn’t bring enough material to make sure it’s steady. I’m mixing up metaphors here, but that’s what I do. I pivot and dodge, I shuffle and escape. If my number one fear back then was never being privy to your three year old mind, imagine what it’s like now when you’re a fully rational being.

You must be thinking, old man, what the heck are you talking about? Let me make it clear, I love you Michael. I am proud of you and find you wonderful. There are times I cannot take my eyes off of you. I miss you. And not because you are not right in front of me, it’s hard to explain. I don’t want to interfere. I don’t want to correct you or give direction. I simply want to keep watching this show of your life. After all, each season keeps getting better and better.

Happy birthday

always,

me