Have A Toast

13 Notes

“I have not suggested any investigations.” Damn straight. 2 years and 2 months in and we’ve just ditched the neurologist, or he ditched us. Not something the typical parent rejoices over, but this letter elicited a few high-fives.

Today is a sleep-in day for my wife, who never gets sleep-in days. Truman is singing along to “Rolling in the Deep”, but I know he’s waiting for Kanye’s “Runaway” to come on. When the beat drops, he goes nuts.

When he’s flying me to the nursing home in his hovercar, I’ll tell him about this morning for the thousandth time and get all the details wrong. ”I know, dad.” I understand the treasure of memory now. How something so unremarkable is everything.

I say “cheers” and he raises his sippy cup to clink my mug. Not bad.