Hi. Remember me? I'm that footprint on the moon you've seen a thousand times. Well guess what. It's my birthday. Woohoo. Today I turned 41. That's two score and one, for those who prefer their numbers in base Lincoln.
Where does the time go? Seems like only yesterday I was born. I remember it well.
I awoke to being crushed into existence by what felt like one sixth of a man and then relief as he jumped off of me in slow motion. Perhaps it was the euphoria from no longer being crushed, but I remember the sight of him drifting away from me as very graceful and serene. I always remember it with music, like a scene from 2001: A Space Odyssey. A guy in a big puffy white suit floating away to Blue Danube. It was like Kubrick was directing the scene from Ghostbusters with the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.
That was pretty much the best part. Then two guys dicked around for a while and stuck a flag through my cousin. They left shortly after, but not before taking a bunch of pictures of me. Still not sure why. I guess it's because I'm kind of an optical illusion. I look less like an indention in the dust and much more like a used medical device that's been thrown on the ground.
Ehh. Listen to me go. Well, if I get one birthday wish--and I like to think that I do--then I'd like to see you guys come by for a visit. Bring your toys you like so much. Screw dropping hammers and hitting golf balls. Try building a sand castle that will last a million years. Or jump on a trampoline ultra high. Or ride a Harley (and leave it when you go--I'm 41 and I've got the itch).
Point is, come back and visit. There's more to do. 41 years, man. It's been too long.