19

I’ve gone around the sun nineteen times. I’ve pushed over trees and played with ants. I’ve painted walls and faces and floors. I’ve seen a man die. I’ve read my bible with moderate to poor consistency. I’ve seen my father get white bristles in his beard. I’ve seen my brother cry. I’ve gotten bigger than most. I’ve been tipsy. I’ve been really angry. I’ve smelt wild sage on a mountain in Delphi. I’ve seen two sisters baptized and a brother married. I’ve picked up big things and have been knocked over by very small things. I cried in church this week. I went West, young man. I’ve chipped a tooth, broken a bone, busted a knuckle, blacked an eye. I’ve loved and been loved. These last nineteen years were good, are good, will always be good. They cling to me like smoke in a jacket. The best part is I get more. More years to hide in my pockets and under my hat. Years that will be filled with babies, and beer, and new love and old love. I’m already wet with life and I’ve only had so little. It’s been a good year. Time for another round.