I think that’s why I’m hanging out next to you while you nap and writing you a letter. I’m here in the bedroom I grew up in, but instead of listening to Blink-182 and trying not to suck at girls, I’m watching my son breathe. The same physical space is now totally different, and the only reason is time. I am very conscious of the fact that you will soon have your own life and loves and obligations. I think this memory I’ve made by watching you is better than literally anything else I could have done with this time.