Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of February 25, 2018
• My pregnant wife could pop that kid out at any given moment. People keep asking me if I’m scared or freaking out or panicking. No. None of those things. I’m ready to get on with it. I have been for months. Let’s get this little turd out and get on with the New World Order. The sooner he’s here, the sooner he’ll be old enough to come sailing with his old man and have a conversation without shitting himself. That’s what I’m looking forward to.
The stomach tightens and sinks.
The heart and lungs follow.
It’s a confounding reaction to a receipt of affection.
It’s familiar, and, therefore, oddly comforting.
But familiarity can be a curse.
A cursed reminder of what once went wrong when you were just trying to do things right this time.
This time it’ll be different, you say.
Why? You’re different, but what are you doing differently?