Someday one or both of my sons may keep a journal, like the one I write in every morning, capturing their thoughts and memories. I’d be surprised if pen and paper have anything to do with it.
If not, they’ll at least have conversations with each other, the way Mike and I do.
47-Year-Old Diego: Hey, do you remember how Dad used to take us to play tennis at Manor High School when we were little?
45-Year-Old Jackson: Yeah and we had to run after the balls we hit over the fence.
D: Remember how Mom used to blast the music?
J: And we’d all dance like crazy. What songs did we dance to?
D: “Whip my Hair” by Willow Smith.
J: “Live Your Life”
D: Jay Z. That New York song.
J: Who sang “Live Your Life?”
D: Rihanna.
J: Remember that time Dad took us to run Ally on the golf course?
D: Oh man, it was so hot that day. Poor Ally.
J: Ally? Poor us!
D: Ally. Our first dog. What a great dog.
J: The best. Remember how much she loved Mom?
D: Mom used to stand her up and dance salsa with her, remember that?
J: Man, I’ll never forget that. I think Dad was jealous that Ally loved Mom so much.
D: Why do you say that?
J: I think Dad wanted to be the Alpha Dog.
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