Yesterday afternoon, I was supposed to be at that kegger. Instead, I was right where I needed to be, home, while my daughter took a nap in her Oldman's bed.
This summer, Hazel and I haven’t had as much time together, and it’s been killing me. She has entered that stage where Dad isn’t funny or cute anymore... just embarrassing and kind of a jagoff.
... But Saturday afternoon, she came east of Mannheim Road. We hit her favorite fast-food joint for lunch, and she finally opened her birthday present from me, sixteen days late.
It was a framed photo of her sitting on my shoulders, both of us grinning like we had just stolen the sun. She was probably five. I tucked in a card with a note that I worked on, plus a gift card to Ulta. She skimmed the note, scoffed at the picture, and pocketed the gift card.
Someday, she will cherish that picture, and when she goes to swap it out, she will find another copy of that birthday letter hidden in the frame. That is when she will know the Oldman has been playing the long game.
I missed my kegger. Missed filling my beer bong on the shores of the Des Plaines River. I had my daughter curled up in her softy blanket, toes poking out, hair sprawled across the pillow. I’ll take that over a rush of BuckleDown Pilsner any day.
I joined TikTok just so she could become a Chalkhead. I might not get 50,000 followers, but if Hazel gets to know her gregarious Oldman a little better, I will count that as a win. That bed won’t always be there and someday I will be an Angel Number.
... But until that day, I’ll be in the grandstand, cowbell in hand, cheering for my beautiful HayHay.
This week, August hits the halfway mark and the days are noticeably shrinking.
... But nothing’s gonna change my world. Nothing’s gonna change my world. Because we are all across the universe.
