Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Michael Patrick.

Seems like yesterday mom was having me call you in for dinner. You of course are outside shooting 3's in the dead of winter, snow all around. Wearing your heavy coat.
Seems like yesterday I thought I was going to die of exhaustion due to you chasing me all around the car after I peed on your leg when I was 6.
Or the bloody murder screams from when I slammed your finger in the dresser when I was 4.
Or the time you sneezed cereal on me at breakfast.
From across the table.
I remember going to your CYO games and eating HNJ fries almost every time.
Or when you shot your thousandth point and they put your name on the banner.
I remember getting to school late every single day of freshman year because you drove.
Or how you, dad, and I went golfing when we were younger.
I remember when you lost Rocky in the woodpile...
and he lost his tail.
Or how Mr. Thom yanked that box turtle off your chest.
Your bunny shorts will forever be immortalized.
Not to mention the numerous Mcflurry, Frosty, BigMac, and Arby's runs we've made.
I remember when you left for school.
And when you graduated.
Part of me wants to go back to the simpler times.
Back to 949 Penna Avenue where we could play countless games of cops and robbers, capture the flag, and whiffle ball.
And then there's the other part of me...
the part that says here we are:
Grad School.
My 2nd year of college.
And Laur's last year of high school.
And I can't help but think about all the times we laughed.
And how you were responsible for 95% of that laughter.
And it makes me less nervous about the next 23 years.
Because regardless of what happens...
Laur and I will always have you there.
To make us pee with laughter.
And play midnight games of Sequence.
Happy Birthday Mike.

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