
Thirty-three years ago today I was probably trembling and I imagine the nurses on the maternity ward were hovering over me wondering what was wrong with this so new to the world, wrinkled baby boy. Little did they know that it wasn't some post-birth condition they'd never seen or heard of...it was fear. I know this as fact because when your very first memories are fear and anxiety it all had to have a starting point.
It took thirty-two years for me to understand that fear. Thirty-two years and five months to conquer it. I am 33 today. I am fearless and pain free for the first September 6th in my life. I have Someone else handling the fear. I gave the pain to an old man named Jack and he told me not to go looking in dumpsters for that garbage...it was gone and it was time to let it be.
I had always thought that I'd be a married man by now. But that can't happen when you're wandering through life like it's a parking lot always on the lookout for a better spot.
I thought I would be the father of two. But that can't happen when you're too selfish to share your life with the ones you love and too self-centred and irresponsible to worry about other people. After all, Jack says FIX YOU. Then you can think about love and life.
In my dreams we are on vacation at a cottage. My youngest is sitting on my knee sipping lemonade and watching a hummingbird zip by fast and furious while my oldest is down by the lake with his adoring and beautiful mother. She's still carrying some of the weight she put on during our last pregnancy but that's okay...I love her more than life itself and I've loved her since the moment I saw her. My father and I talk about anything but business and I always remind him that I love him before we pack the kids in the car and head back to the city. People need to know they are loved (especially the ones who don't want to be.)
These things will come true. I have faith in that.
I had plans. A dead man named Matthew got in the way. I am 33 today. And I can't wait to see the story at 34.