My daughter has her birthday today; she's four year's old. Time goes by fast. Having a four year old is unbelievable. It seems like only yesterday that we brought her home. It's funny, but I can't remember life without her. Hell, I must've had some kind of existence for thirty-years before her, but I can't remember it. What did the wife and I talk about? Were the problems we faced really that crucial back then? It was cool because all I had to think about was myself.
Honest to God, I can remember my biggest worry was where I was going to get money for beer! I'd scrape behind the furniture, between the cushions, shuffle through pockets just to find loose change. Once I had enough money, I was always concerned if one case would be enough. Beer goes too fast with beer pong.
Hell. I can't remember our conversations before the kid. Did my wife and I talk? All I recall is us stuffed into a little Philadelphia apartment looking at each other. I think we laughed at Seinfeld and Friends. I think I did a lot of grunting back then. Maybe that's how I communicated: one grunt meant no. Two grunts meant yes. I didn't have to be articulate. Maybe that's why I drank so much; maybe it made me communicate better. Perhaps, I sounded like Sean Connery or somebody when I had a few in me. Not sure though. I think I told my wife she looked pretty the one time when she had her hair up in pigtails. Like I said, I'm not sure though. I know that when my grandmother died we cried. I know when my my uncle died we were devastated. When my favorite professor in the whole world died that same year, I cried alone. Their lives never touched. It's cool though. Sometimes, heart break is best when it's private, in our own little solitudes.
But she's four today. Tomorrow she'll be older. Next week, even older.
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