Once upon a time...I hated to wear clothes.
I loved to feel the cool ocean breeze against my naked body.
I was about eighteen months old.
And we were spending a few weeks in Nantucket.
My family was living in one little beach cottage. And my uncle (Larry) and my future-aunt-to-be (Susan) were staying in a place right next to ours.
Susan was disgusted by the state of the kitchen floor as soon as she arrived…so she got out a mop and bucket…and scrubbed the floor until it was sparkling clean.
Just as the floor finished drying, I wandered in.
And peed all over Susan's clean kitchen floor.
Needless to say, my future-aunt-to-be didn't think this was cute.
And so, I became that boy that peed on Aunt Susan’s clean kitchen floor.
My Aunt and Uncle have lived in Denver pretty much my entire life...so I didn't get to see them that much growing up. Only once...maybe twice a year.
But when I did, my Aunt would always remark on how much I'd grown and how she couldn't believe that this giant was the boy that peed on her clean kitchen floor.
I didn't truly understand why my Aunt focused on this incident so much…until today...when my cousin Hannah drove us around Denver.
The very idea that Hannie-Bananie drives is too much for my brain to handle.
And even though I spent all day today with the practically-an-adult Hannah...whenever I think of Hannah I will always think of this...
And try not to think about this...
Because if I do...I’ll end up feeling as old as Jessica Tandy at the end of "Driving Miss Daisy."
And I'm just not ready for that.