Mr. Joyce Takes on the World

I never pictured how I'd feel at different ages. I remember once my mother said to me, “You’ll be twenty in the year 2000.” I turned twenty-one that year, and it didn’t feel any different than the year before. I feel like the most recent birthday that felt any different to me was last year when I visited Winchester Cathedral and the Mary Rose. Prior to that my birthdays from age twelve to the present were largely unremarkable. I want them to be remarkable, but I think that once you get to a certain age they cease to feel special. Maybe it’s the lack of presents, or the lack of fanfare. For me, birthdays are difficult. I’m often reminded of what I’ve lost or speculate on what could have been.             I’ll turn forty next year, which scares the hell out of me. I feel like I haven’t done much in the decades I’ve been alive. It wasn’t until I started traveling that I felt like I started to do much of anything. I’ve always...

      My niece Miranda is blue-eyed, brown-haired, and about seven pounds (as of writing). She sleeps a lot, cries when needed, and then passes out again. She likes powdered formula, being held, and her binky. She’s adorable, and still has that new baby scent. I never would have guessed that I’d love someone at first sight. Or, that I’d love someone who belches like a trucker. We all have our quirks.  It’s been twenty odd years since I last held a baby. I thought I’d forget how to do it. But the second that her mother handed her to me, it all came back. Holding her was practically instinctual. Just as baby’s know how to smile and kiss without being taught. There are some things that are built into us, and cannot be excised; no matter how confusing the world becomes.   Miranda opened her azure eyes, and then yawned. I kissed her on the forehead, and then the hand. She cried soon after, but I didn’t mind. I knew that this was her way of reaching ou...