I’m Aric, your Uncle.
you came into this world while I was drunk in another country, far away from where you arrived. this will most likely be a reoccurring theme, but trust that most of the pints were for you. see, as you can probably tell from my discussing alcohol with a 1 day year-old, I might not be the best parent. I might never be a parent – and that’s okay, because, well, I have you now.
when I woke up this morning and ran downstairs to see what you looked like, I expected the joy to leap from your blurry photo, a photo of you looking blurry – and it did, that joy. it leaped. but I was soon hit with a wave of terror – see, your little expression and fingers scared the shit me and having to cross that bad word out is why. you might someday look up to me and I don’t want you using words like that – it’s the lowest form of expression and hints at a lack of creativity, so… use them sparingly.
I do want you to know that I will work hardest at being the coolest Uncle you have. I know that you have AJ on the other side of the family who will be vying for this award, but he seems to be a nice fella and hopefully we’ll get him married-off and boring soon… that’s usually what happens to people when they settle down, but don’t tell your parents I said that.
in fact, while on the subject of secrets, I hope you know I’ll keep all of yours. even the bad ones. now, having said that, you might tell me something someday and I’ll tell you that ‘you need to tell your Dad about this’, but trust me when I tell you that it would have to be a very serious situation for me to do that. but things like girls, school, bullies, etc – I’m your man. even things like drinking and drugs. but I’ll warn you, if you’re thinking about those things, I’ll be telling you some stories that might scare the… that might scare you.
the one thing your parents and I might not agree on is travel – I’ll be in my late-forties by the time they let me send you a plane ticket to meet me somewhere that’s hard to pronounce, and I’ll do everything I can to talk you into staying longer. you’ll ultimately be the decider of what you do with your life and where, but at least let me show you a few things before that.
I want to apologize now for all of the times I won’t be there, but I also hope you don’t mind sitting down every once and a while and writing me a letter – by that time they might have some amazing machine that reads your mind and prints out whatever you were thinking, but humor an old guy and let me know about your life…
and know that even though I won’t be around, I’m always with you. and will do anything for you. see, the life and the lifestyle I’ve chosen means that I very well might not have one of you for myself – which, to be honest, I kind of like. what that means though, is that you’re going to sort of be a son to me.
I hope you think I’m cool – as, of this very morning, something funny happened…
you’re now the only person I care about thinking so.