Sometimes

It's two o'clock in the morning. In a year I'll be just about forty. My son is asleep, as is my wife. In her belly grows our daughter, who by anyone's standards should be here any day now. I am listening to Earth's Crooked Axis For String Quartet which is perfect for this hour. In Texas, my home, it almost never gets as cold as it will get tomorrow night this far into spring. Up north this is considered a curse. Down here it's a fucking blessing.

Somewhere, closer than I wish, a small dog is wearing out its lungs at some ignorant asshole's door. It sounds like a pipe being struck in a consistent rhythm with a stick. My refrigerator, the new, offensively expensive one, is doleing out its cooling gasses in a digestive belch that lends itself to thoughts of disorder.

I've been called negative. I can be. I have been called an asshole. I most assuredly am quite often. But you can't fairly categorize me as a negative asshole. You know, try though you might.

When I was real young, as in too young to get who I am now, but not too young to try, I wondered where I would be around this phase in my life.

In this phase I still see the vultures. I still hear the dull roar. I still am waiting for an answer, but I am beginning to accept that there probably isn't one. And I'm beginning to accept that that's okay.

That's probably not growing up, but it's a definite sign of a trailing history.

So what makes me smile? What doesn't, really.

Too cheap?

Okay, I smile when I see a child make eye contact with me and I remember being on that end of those sorts of exchanges. Torch passed. Yes kid, I know what you're thinking. You are more than loved.

I smile when I am alone at night and things aren't boiling over, and I can sit here and I can empty out the water and start anew.

I smile when I think about the years I have left and how they will bring awe in no small measure.

I smile because I know you, and because that will never go away long after we do.

I smile because I was a part of what you wanted life to be and I smile because I was able to give you a little bit back of what you gave me.

I wasn't there when you went away, but I am smiling as I write about the last time we spoke. You told my son how much you loved him, and he knew it then, and he will always know it.

I smile because you will never again have to feel the wall of pain that pushes us all no matter how hard we push back. I am thrilled that you cheated the final agony and although you are gone, you will always make me smile.

Thanks.