Eighteen

Ok...brings back thoughts.

But everyone has their own 18 thing.
I was married. And there is a story,
but I have grown weary of talking about it.

I got home about 6 this evening. My son's 18th
birthday. Cannot believe 18 years have come
and gone. I visited a friend over the weekend.
Left Friday after work and drove about 200
miles in the dark, but the moon was nearly
full (to the naked eye full) and the night was lovely,
so my heart was not troubled.

Bought my son The Road (Cormac McCarthy),
a collection of Hemingway short stories, and Pale
Fire(Nabokov). Found some decent wines,
ate some good food, watched some no-brainer
movies, and slept. Was a good way to spend
a weekend.

Now, I think I shall take a bathroom break, eat
some of the delicious cake my friend baked for
my son, and lie down and read.

"Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans"

Happy birthday to you, my beautiful son.