First Papa Party!

But only one [future] papa showed! Actually it was better that way. My new friend Aaron came out for five or six hours this afternoon. He will be new father to a little son in two and a half weeks, lives in Longview and is probably the coolest person there. Our conversation ranged from serious topics of parenthood, sexuality, drugs, relationships, and family to books, broads, kids, crushes and cigarettes.

Six were supposed to show but I was more than satisfied with one, especially after my night lacking sleep but stuffed with salmon coming up the creek. Gretchen's birthday inspired me to have more birthdays thrown here in these humble woods. Long witty conversations, free vietnamese kung-fu books for all party-goers, a smidge of whiskey mixed with roadside sins.

We talk and walk around our dreams together, words relenquished in the dead of night to ears I wish were closer than the stars. But wings are cheaper than harps these days and our clouds cannot help but cry.

Aaron is dismayed about portions of his existence but holds his head high. I try to assuage his guilt with tales of my own woes and wonders of papahood but most of his mind is minding its own business. I watch his roving eyes caress this fresh landscape like dawn's sun bathing trees in light. His giddy fear resonates across our shared emptiness as we fill each other with hope disguised as hunger. I revel in the morning of his transition despite our collective worries and whimsical forethought regrets.

His tales of love unrequited from his own end remind me of me and I tear up, talking circles 'round my self until the knots knit themselves a nest in which to nuzzle and puzzle. I cannot help but feel the sage and wish that I had had one or two or ten at a similar point in my life. Aaron speaks of his reluctance to read parenting books, a natural aversion to the accepted obligations of those expecting, a willingness to brave the storm with innocent eyes. The map is not the territory and relying on the map can get your hopes up only to dash them and can lead astray even the most dedicated and cautious travelers. His hopes and aspirations and fears quell my own restless heart a bit, persuading poems from the stone that was my soul.