Friday, January 13, 2006

Hagan Phillip - A Day Early

Dear Hagan,

Happy First Birthday, Buddy! I hope this year turned out aright for you. I cannot believe it has already been a year. It's strange for me, it seems just yesterday I was calling your mom from my cubicle - asking her if she, if you, were okay. How your daddy was holding up. But it seems now, every time I see you a lifetime has passed. It breaks my heart in a way. You change, you grow, you become a whole new person every time I see you. I know now you've grown worlds since October. I hear you on the phone: talking, laughing. I can hear in your voice you're on the cusp.

The cusp of becoming a little boy. You're very close to not being a baby any longer. I want to freeze time, stop it now - be able to hold you and play with you like this always - you're so damn cute.

But the cool thing is? I always feel like that - and every time I see you next I'm amazed and astonished at how much cooler and wonderful you've become. So, while part of me wants to freeze time, in my heart I can only try to keep pace with you and know that each of these turns, each of these stops, are worth keeping and treasuring for the split second we have them. Because what's coming is only going to be better and brighter and more fun.

More fun. Of course. Always.

And you know, last time I wrote you, I promised you your parents would rock the Kasbah. I was right, huh? Chalk that one up to Auntie Kitty knowing her shit. (Am I allowed to say that still? Probably not. I think we're officially into the "adults have to clean up their language" phase of your development. Hm. Anyway.) You know, when I made that promise, I was just basing it on how great of friends they were. Seeing them this past year with you. Well. They really have outdone themselves. The crazy-good friends they are was only a precursor to the mad-marvelous parents they became. Damn, kid. You're one lucky babe. We share that luck, you and I, getting to have your Mom and Pops in our lives. They'll always be my best friends, I cannot wait to see them grow as parents thru the next years. I have a feeling you'll keep them on their toes.

Oh, and before I go - this year's a doosie. There's walking and dancing and talking. There will be some milestones. Lots more food you can chew and throw. There may be some solid trips on your future, too. Your world will get a bit bigger, this year. No worries, though. Just remember as long as one of us is around, you'll always be safe. And THAT's a lifetime guarantee.

Take care, Boog. I miss you something awful. Pretty soon, I'm hoping you'll get to know me enough you'll miss me too. Selfish, I know. But I'm hoping that's a lesson your Uncle Sam and I can teach in the years to come. Love stretches real real far (stretch our your arms - see that? Bunches of that.) And sometimes, people seem real far away. Don't give in to that feeling. They're, we're, not. We're closer than you think. We always will be. If there's something you can count on, it's that your Auntie Kittie and your Uncle Sam will always be at your beck.

We love you, Spud. And, amazingly, you've got us loving your moms and pops even more than we did before. Thanks for the past year - I wish you nothing but puppies, trucks and cake in the year to come.

See you soon.


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