20

Gavin came home yesterday, after a close shave at the airport when he realized, almost too late, that no Lyft, Uber, or taxi drivers are awake at 4am on a Thursday in Rochester. Some tired driver finally logged in at 5:30 and he pounced, making it to his terminal just in time for boarding.

Today he’s 20. My tiny baby with feet like potstickers. 

And now I have to go buy a bunch of jeans, shirts, and underwear, because he didn’t pack any. His bag was full of electronics and Trader Joe’s candy. Youths.