When we were cool
Someday, Justin will wear black socks with shorts. I will drive Evan to school in my pyjamas. It’s our job – we are his parents, and are therefore honour-bound to embarrass him.
He’ll never know us as we know ourselves – he’ll know us as parents only. PB&J-makers. Carpool-drivers. Lecture-givers (as much as I hope not to be, it’s another inevitability, isn’t it?). We’ll nag him with the best of intentions, smother him with enthusiasm. He won’t understand us, and we won’t understand him.
He’ll never know us sunburnt and giddy from 35 hours in a VW van with six people, six bikes, three tents and a canoe. I can still taste that beer, cold and sharp in the hot moonscape of the Utah desert.
It’s just one moment of hundreds, when we were cool.


Reader Comments (2)
Congratulations again buddy