Somehow, without my consent, years continue to roll on. Time, she flies.
Today my son is 31. Thirty. One. I know this, because I was present for his arrival (and his creating). But still. 31?
In my mind, he looks like this.
Not a grown-up guy who wears this.
There are (many) years worth of posts in the archives here, in case you haven’t read about his generosity and general wonderfulness. For now, all I’m going to say is that, we’re spending a few hours (the time it takes to celebrate, order and consume food), with my boy tonight.
For his 31st birthday. And that is about all I can handle.