366 Days

So, a year ago I walked out of a hospital room while nurses did some statistical type data gathering on a newborn boy and into the cold, snow smelling air. I walked a couple blocks away and stood atop a hill looking towards downtown. I stared at the Smith Tower, a building that I had been infatuated with since I was a wee lad, and focused on the green light on top.

“It all changes now,” I told myself.

I remember knowing that. I remember that bitter cold air stinging my face, my eyes. I remember that sort of rush that comes with heading face first into the unknown and would like to imagine that I looked down on ol’ Smith Tower with a cocky grin (but I imagine it was more a panic stricken look somewhere between realizing that it was now time to jump out of the plane and that of realizing you had just crapped your drawers).

Some things that I have learned in the last year:

You can function on a lot less sleep than you think you need.

There are some deep stores of patience I was unaware had been buried.

I am actually able to look outside of myself for awhile, realize that there are bigger things than me out there.

How fragile life can be, but paradoxically how damn strong it is.

The laughter of my child rivals even the most soul stirring song in terms of joy it brings me; that smile is better than money.

It hurts my heart sometimes how beautiful the world can be.

All the roads I’ve taken led me to this unexpected place, and now there’s a whole new journey I couldn’t have predicted.

I get a chance to show my father how much amazement there is in having a baby son, something he himself was possibly too afraid to know.

The fears that I had, that I wasn’t going to know how to do it, were unnecessary. I should’ve spent more time eating dinner out.

So, here’s to keeping the Kickers alive a year, to not fleeing to Costa Rica, to doing our damndest to keep a little style and vulgarity in our parental lives.


Thanks for a great year buddy, here’s to so many more.