Adulthood

               For the first time in a long time, I’m alone with my thoughts. My wife’s out chasing bad guys for a few days, my son’s a few hundred miles away visiting my parents and I’ve come home from work only to find myself in an empty house. It’s so bloody empty I can actually hear my own thoughts. Damn the silence. I miss them so very much. I’m sitting here, half drunk, and this reality hits me like a sledgehammer. I’m a father. I’m a husband. I’m an adult.

               Where did the time go? I’ve been to hell and back and not once did I wonder about it. It was just yesterday, I think, the day I brought him home from the hospital, all 6 pounds of a human being. I remember it quite clearly. Hell, I must’ve been the first dad to be kicked out of the waiting room for … annoying the doctors. I remember holding him for the first time like he was some Ming dynasty priceless relic, frozen with fear I might drop him. I remember vividly how proud I was. I remember my dad telling me over the phone we were going to find him drunk, after he found out he was to have a grandson. I remember my wife, the glowing angel, telling me she was pregnant and me jumping up and down laughing and crying all at the same time. I remember my son sleeping on my belly for hours while I was buttoning the computer and worrying about the amount of water I had that day because would it be possible for me to be doing it in an empty bottle instead of risking waking him up. What is this, inception? Time travel? Years passed, things changed, everything around me changed but I never thought of myself as an adult. Until now.

               I’m an adult. I don’t have to sneak around jittery, hiding my cigar from my dad, I don’t have to hide whatever I do from others like it’s some sort of shameful secret. I can do whatever I want. I don’t think I’ve ever looked at myself this way. I finally realized what I look in the eyes of those around me – a full grown adult. I don’t need anyone’s permission anymore. How come? Isn’t this illegal somehow? I should be, feels like it. When did I start worrying about mortgage and schools? Who’s the damned fool who gave me this much responsibility? Don’t you know I’m still a kid? Crap, I’m too old for this shit. Wait, what?

               I came home from work, bought a pizza, ate it and then everything changed. What in the name of hell did these guys put in the pizza? I’m alone and I don’t like it. I hate the silence. All I’m thinking about is my son’s happy chatter whenever I’m back home, running towards me like a guided missile with his hands in the air and a big smile plastered over his face. I love not being alone. I love watching him run from one side of the house to the other reciting poetry or singing Jingle Bells or whatever songs he feels like singing while I’m holding my wife in my arms and gently running my fingers through her perfumed hair. When did this become my ideal moment? I don’t know but I’m loving it, every single picosecond of it. I’m addicted to it. I’m actually in withdrawal now, I think, and the only reason I’m able to understand what’s happening to me now is I’m only half drunk instead of completely smashed. This really is going to hurt in the morning. I miss you sweetheart, I miss you little angel, I miss your laughs, I miss your embrace, I miss the chaos and the noise and the chatter and .. everything. I’m writing this down so I remember in the morning but I’m bloody baking you guys a cake. A big one, for each of you. I love you!

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