Lucky We

Seven years ago tonight, I was pacing the hardwood floors of our uptown duplex, breathing through contractions, trying to not go to the hospital too early. Just before midnight, I couldn't pace one more pace at home. I had to get out.

A hundred years or a flash later, Kevin and I were parents.

A hundred years or a flash later, our son is seven.

And he's killing it.

Happy birthday, Woods. You're extraordinary.