Happy Birthday, Austin

Well, another year has passed, and another 365 days have been de-queued from your age.

It’s funny how the concept of time can change, masquerading in different forms. When looking toward the future, time travels so slowly; like a slug on the carcass of a rotting deer that was hit one night by a drunken motorist. When recollecting past years, they appear to have flown by, leaving nothing but a bittersweet residue in their wake. When viewing the present, we observe nothing more than a “fleeting moment,” nothing with structure, nothing substantial.

Foolishly, we as humans associate this characteristic with time itself, rather than with our minds. Perhaps our brains observe time in this manner in order to keep us moving, keep us creating. It is a constant reminder what little time we have on this earth, how many more parking tickets we still need to pay, how many songs we still need to illegally download. Perhaps our minds are saving us the heartache of the bad memories, illuminating instead the future, the endless possibilities. Meanwhile, time continues to move at a constant speed, as time is wont to do.

I suppose it is customary to offer some sort of advice, anecdote or wisdom in times like this. The truth is that I have nothing to offer you. Clearly you know how to live, I would say you do a moderately good job of it since you made it this far. Perhaps the only thing I can offer you is to remember the state of your queue. You were born with all your years of living secured safely in your heart. Each year, as it passes, is de-queued, leaving an even smaller queue behind. But rather than living your life wondering how big that queue really is, I ask you to think about that year that was just de-queued. And how much you will truly miss it.

That, my friend, will mean you truely are living.

Happy Birthday, buddy.

[callie].