Ancient History

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In my memories, 1999 looked a lot different than Prince’s raucous version of Doomsday Eve. It probably smelled better and didn’t feature stubble or fingerless gloves.

1999 was gentle, smiling year. It brought changes, hope and sun, a late autumn Pacific cruise, an expansion of our hearts and our home.

When the year was still new, Ryley was born. He entered the world on a brilliant blue bubble of a morning. I remember thinking what a wide-eyed day it was, and then I nudged him to join. He did.

It was January 22.

That makes him 11. Hey, a palindrome: 01-22-10.

Ryley is my first of what turned out to be many, many boys. I had no idea as I held him what the future would bring because it seemed the bulk of the future was in my arms. The moments right after a birth are large enough to house the enormity of the miracle, but compact enough to bundle into one concise word:


I love my boy. He’s good, tender-hearted, strong.

Happy Birthday to Ryley.

10 comments to 1999

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