I made this in the morning of your D-day before I did a mix of chilling and getting out a bit for adventures/random driving.
I wanted to write more on this trip but the bits and bobs that have been floating in my head the last few weeks now that I have the time are stunted. Stuck. Trying not to read too much into that.
I miss you, my person. Always.
What would you be like at 40?
Knowing how all of us have grown, mostly I just think you’d be a solidified version of exactly who you always were.
Let’s be real, no one really walks away from our neurosis around here. We own them more, know how to work them more, but yet, they remain. Just me? Maybe just me.
A little part of me wonders if another year of vanity would have slipped in there somewhere between 35 and now. Hard to live with the fact that you never even saw 35.
So close, and yet so far.