Happy Birthday, Matt!

Mm, what do I remember about my 21st birthday? Unfortunately, not too much. It was during The Summer From Hell ... and I've systematically blocked most of those months out of my mind. I do remember wanting to go bowling, so Paul took me to Jillian's after dinner. The bartender comped me a cocktail which was bright blue from too much Curacao and tasted fairly horrible. We bowled with the bumpers on. Paul didn't let me win.

It's hard to believe that was only a few years ago. Some days -- like today -- I feel much older than my almost-25 years. I woke up to a 5 a.m. thunderstorm. (Did Matt leave my torch outside? was the only thought that pierced my grogginess.)

After dragging myself out of bed (6:45), then dragging Matt out of bed (7:10), then dragging Paul out of bed (8:27), I asked Matt if he wanted to ride downtown to work with me. He's been splitting his time between my home and office, because I feel bad leaving him alone all day.

This morning, however, I had e-mail from my boss. "There are liability and company policy issues ..." it said, so I kicked Matt out and staved off an anxiety attack brought on by the e-mail. I felt really bad then, because wandering around the business district of a foreign city is a crappy way to spend your first day of real adulthood. Fortunately, the downtown bums are keen on Matt (much nicer than the Detroit bums, he told me earlier this week), so he hasn't had to be alone.

I figure Paul and I will take him to Flying Saucer tonight. With 217 beers on the menu this season, I'm sure he'll find something he likes. Maybe I'll drag the boys over to Jillian's, too, for old times' sake.

It's funny how today, more than ever, I want to say something deep and prophetic about growing up. Something about how it's kind of fun ... but mostly crappy ... and that it's nothing like you imagine when you're a kid. But those words just don't seem adequate, considering that Matt has lived through more in 21 years than I will have lived through when I'm 45.

So I guess I'll just settle for this: Happy Birthday, Matt. You'll always be "my Mattie." Thanks for everything -- like giving me a new way of looking at stuff ... and talking in your funny northern accent ... and letting me ask you "Are you okay?" at least once every half-hour. Thanks for cleaning my house and singing in my car and respecting our friendship the way you do. Thanks for shutting me up when I need to be shut up. And thanks for those long, lone e-mails every once in a while when I thought you were gone for good. :)

Cheers, kiddo. Hope your 21st is one to remember.