I like it, too. The way I tend to say certain words, cook my eggs, kiss, and even laugh. The slow death of my original accent, my eventual acceptance of skinny-jeans, hyper-femme-alertness, it's all you. All of you. Bubbly and loud, that's mom. Every time I click the high-beams, Lois, that's you. Anything remotely qualified as snuggling, it's Melissa. Evan is excitement...over anything. Steve is self-acceptance mingled with lazing, responsibility, and liquor. Stephanie, debates dissolving into giggles, and every single 'fuck' I let slip, I'll have you know. I owe Carey for child-like ferocity, and I owe a handful of middle-aged women for hope in things to come. Russell Brand is my spirit animal, Kristin, my peace and patience, and Lindsey, the unparalleled security and sobering knowledge that my every cell is numbered, known, accepted, and loved, if not understood.
So thank you. I love you. In great big neon letters, with explosions and flying doves and painted dancers, I love you.
FAQ #4, the fourth and final:
Q: When will you be taking off?
A: Next Thursday, I'll leave for Poca, WV, to see my family and wrap things up. And then, on the 24th, Lindsey and I will embark on the much anticipated "Manifest Destiny of Tom and Z", which will take us through Chicago, Minneapolis, Fargo, North Dakota, Montana, that skinny bit of Idaho, and finally, Seattle. Along the way: the world's largest horseshoe crab, Taco Bell, and much bitching from Lindsey about my tendency to drive like an old woman.
And if I haven't seen you yet, I will before I leave. Just remind me, please. Pre-Life-Transplant Time is a hectic, giddy, terrifying time, and I don't want it to stand in the way of any and all last-second hugs. It's important that I get those. This little ship won't make it far without them.