so the other night

we to dinner at

your mom’s favorite

restaurant in bangalore.

a fancy vietnamese

place at an

even fancier hotel.

she

used to hang

out here

while she waited

for me to

finish my work day.

it was nice

to walk in

that night, and

see another reminder

of her…

her favorite flowers.

they were the

flowers she chose

for our wedding.

i can still

smell them

when i think

of that day.

and she used to

buy them from the

farmer’s market every week,

and bring them

home to make our

place look less

like a record store

and more like

a place someone

called home.

she loved the way

they looked,

and especially the

way they smelled.

and so did i.

funny thing is…

i am so damn

allergic to those flowers.

i dealt with

them, ’cause i knew

how much

she

loved them.

but believe me,

i complained about

them every chance

i got.

this was a

fun day.

you were tired,

and maybe just

a little unreasonable.

so i picked you

up and dropped

you into a

beanbag chair to

try to

make you laugh.

it worked.

you made me

do it like, 500 times.

so many times,

in fact,

that my back

started hurt.

that day reaffirmed

one thing…

you are a

lot of fun.

and that day

helped me

realize something else…

i am

an old,

old man.

up you go,

toward heights

unimagined 19 months ago.

you and me

both, kid.

about this photo.

my words

would only

ruin it.

i can’t

help but look

at you and see

everything i ever

wanted in

a child.

and i’m not just

talking about

the pretty face

(more your mom than you dad, thankfully),

or the

totally rad

outfit and bangles

that i picked out.

no.

i’m talking about

the brains.

the personality.

the disposition.

the you.

(yes, you can thank your mom for all of that stuff, too).

that the

you in this

photo is exactly

the you that your

mom

pictured when

we first heard

we were having

a girl.

we were somewhere

but i don’t

mean it the

way you think i do.

yeah.

we were in

an auto rickshaw

on some

street in bangalore,

but what i mean

is that you

were somewhere

else in that head

of yours.

like maybe back

in los angeles,

playing your piano,

or throwing

apples into

the street

or at daycare.

me?

i wasn’t

as far out as

you were

at that moment,

but i was

somewhere as well.

i was imagining

where we

we’d be if

things had

worked out differently

for all of us.

but it doesn’t

pay to think

about the

what ifs

and the what

could have beens

when the what

is is

exactly where

she wanted

us to be.

i’m happy,

i really am,

but we’re still

missing that

one person

that would have

had us in

the only somewhere

i really wanted.

also.

i was holding

you tight,

yes, to keep

you from falling

from the auto rickshaw,

but mostly

because i can.

yeah.

it took me 28

years or so

to drive my

first auto rickshaw.

you?

a little more

than 18 months.

i mean, i don’t

think i even

knew what an

auto rickshaw was

until i was 28.

seeing you

get excited

about things you

didn’t know existed

just a few months

ago is

one of the

greatest joys

i have,

or will ever have.

and to know

you are checking

my dreams off

so early in

your life makes me

believe that you

will never, ever

lack for happiness.

i changed your

diaper on the

streets of bangalore.

you didn’t

seem to mind

all that much.

i mean, i’ve changed

you in weirder places

(the brooklyn bridge comes to mind).

you seemed

pretty happy to

be out of that

wet diaper.

someday you will

be out of diapers,

and i can

honestly say

i won’t miss moments

like these,

but i will

miss the photo ops.