Timster
[2004-12-16 - 5:42 p.m.]

Tim is 21 today. Happy for him, sad for me.

He's getting depressed, I can tell. Constantly picking at the girls. Leaving his stuff everywhere. He's miserable again. I wanna help him, but I can't do more than I already am. Sitting down to a showing of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, and bowls overflowing with hot buttered popcorn won't fix this for him. He's all grown up now. Cheering for him at the baseball game isn't an option either,since he hasn't played for many years, and I'm too broke, and short on space to get him that remote controlled Escalade that I know he'd like.

So, I'm stumped for now. At my 21'st celebration, I got really sick and went to the emergency room, only to find out that I was pregnant. Pregnant with Tim. Originally I wasn't going to keep it, so I went out and drank with my girlfriends. Less than a week later, I heard a tiny voice from my abdomen say "but, I'm your little girl" and I cancelled the appointment at the abortion clinic. It was the smartest thing I've ever done, because, aside from a few tough teen years, Tim's always been my best friend.

He's up in Middletown with his brother and friends, partying in real bars with real tabs and real tattered booth seats and dirty glasses. I sure hope he's not pregnant.