Age is a funny thing. It is actually quite artificial when you think about it. Why do we count the passing of our lives in years? Does age really tell you anything about a person?
I mention this as preamble to my commemoration of a very important and sobering anniversary. Today, exactly today, I am the same age as my father when I was born. I was bored one day on the slow-going 7 train and did some calculating: July 8th.
As I mentioned before, age is really an artifice, but I find a strange significance in this day. Most importantly, I feel so young. I wonder whether I would be capable of having three young, hungry children at this age. I struggle to begin grasping the weight of fatherhood. The Responsibility. What moves me most is the trade off all parents make, young or old, to sacrifice their personal dreams (at least at some level) for the well being of their children.
Funny how young they look, huh?