I went home, and I wrote a note to myself in the future.

Well it was that night. But here’s what I did: I went home, and I wrote a note to myself in the future. I set it to the date when I turned 42 yrs old. I was a Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy fan. I’m 44 now. When I turned 42, after the birthday cake and the token presents, I dug through my boxes to find that letter.

I opened it up. I read it. From me (17) to me (42). I discovered that, in _some way_, I managed to accomplish all of my dreams so far with more to come and in a sense, I became who I dreamed of.

I became my own father.

For a sad night of doubt, something wonderful came out of it: me: and it wasn’t long after I wrote that letter at 17 that I realized that there’s no such thing as childhood or adulthood: we’re just people.

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