Today you would have been 25 years old. I can’t imagine you’d be married now but who knows. I’ve often wondered who you’d have brought home under your arms. I’ve never imagined how you’d please your partners but I’ve always imagined they’d be beautiful or handsome, and that you’d make them laugh out loud or giggle behind some bedroom door, trying to suppress a laugh at your antics.
I wonder where we would have traveled for your high school graduation trip; maybe we would have gone to Colombia and hung out at a coffee plantation before seeing the Salt Cathedral. Maybe we would have gone to Ecuador and stayed at Tinalandia, the same place my father took me years ago. We could have hiked the cliffs of Newfoundland. That would have been fun with you. None of your cousins seemed to be interested in Canada, at least not the way I am. People think it’s so much like the United States that they could go there any time, but they don’t and it isn’t.
Would you look today more like your mother or more like your father? Would your hair be dark and thick like your dad’s? Would you be ready to shave off your beard? I’m sure that your eyes would be as bright and filled with expression as I remember. Your eyes! That’s it! That’s how I remember you. They were so often filled with the love of the heart not jaded. They were filled with the excitement of being. And they were mirrors through which I saw my self. I saw myself in your eyes. For your birthday, and for as often as I can remember, I will let people see you in my own eyes.