on this day, i celebrate and mourn my previous creation of a beloved and sometimes palagarized bit of literature for you, and i replicate an annual tradition of looking downward and shaking my head sadly at the fearful burden of feeling that I cannot do even a small fraction as much or as well again, much as my friend mike mcenary used shake his head sadly after he would watch an attractive young lady walk by. contained in this motion of his head was a vast sadness, and internal acceptance of what he assumed was the fact that he could simply never approach or in any way interact meaningfully with that woman, and perhaps as well, an acknowledgement that he would never master the skill of watching someone without allowing his head to swivel along directly connected to their passage. i had long tried to school mike in an typically inherent human skill of moving only their eyes to follow an object in motion, but this skill seemed incredibly difficult for him to master. in my downcast head shake, and memory of mike mcenary, i find a struggle to not simply accept a limitation i have created for myself, but instead to muster the moxie required to somehow rise to the occasion of your glorious birth once again, and create something new that communicates to you a granule of humble truth that communicates that i understand some small iota of your life, your position, and your vector on this day. the gift that is starting to sift from my brain this morning is perhaps simpler than i expected, and is simply to communicate to you with these clumsy tools that are my words how much joy you supply to myself and my household with your perfect presence in my sister's life, and with your indomitably, incessantly creative brain, and the mystery of it all that results in so many creative excretions. We wonder, our eyes agape, and watering from inability to blink, when we see your creations show up on our picture frame. We assign the title of Grand Systaner to one of the crowd, who is tasked with lubricating our balls of eyes so we can continue to stare, enraptured, at the twist and turns and shiny facets and angles of the beauty you bring into the world.
i could not be any more joyous that on this day a mere few years ago, you came into existence athenically, your mother pulling you fully formed from the forehead of your father.
