I used to think I was going to grow up to be something extraordinary. But I'm finding out that it's the growing up itself that is rather extraordinary.
Today I am home. I'll be home for 2 days. Everyone is here. Jake, Nate, Amy, Cyle, Anne... We're talking about summer things now. BB guns and camping. My friends are my home. We sip Irish beer in the pub and talk about getting old. I'm caught up in the suspense of it all; the getting-old, that is. That feeling that it'll never happen, and the wide-eyed, split-second realizations that it will and is. Like holding your breath off the diving board.
I didn't like the Murphy's Stout. It tasted like art supplies. But the pita bread was to die for, and so was the weather.
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