Lee Geiger

Now that you’re 21, it’s time to stop playing video games and start designing them.

Melanie White

Dear Keith,

Twenty-one years ago today, you opened your eyes to the world for the first time. My money says the first thought that crossed your mind after you checked out the nurses was “what time does the Cinnabon open?”

The birthday that seemed impossibly distant is now here. And with it comes the realization that I’ve been planning for it since the day you was born. It has always been out there, a momentous event, a line in the sand representing a before and after. Only now, blessed with the experience of two-plus decades of parenthood, I find myself asking, “Before and after what?”

That you’re an adult? Hardly. Once you turned 18 you could vote, sign contracts, and join the military without my permission. The only new right you acquire today is the right to buy a drink, which would be a reason to celebrate if you actually consumed alcohol. But based on what I’ve seen and heard, your idea of partying is to throw on your favorite Pokémon t-shirt and freebase Cherry Coke while sorting through your Magic Cards. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with any of that. In fact, I’m grateful.

What about our relationship? Does today represent that symbolic moment when I’m supposed to begin treating you like an adult? I don’t think so. We made most of those changes long ago, sometime after you earned your driver’s license. You still needed my guidance, but the heavy lifting of raising of you was done. Your morals, your essence, your core—the foundation of YOU had already been laid. And you can (and should) thank The Pretty Blonde for most of that. In fact, you should call her up and tell her. Often.

Going forward, you will be shaped and crafted by other things, nearly all of which are outside my control; your friendships and loves, your successes and failures, your choices and goals. My “job” now (and which I’m already doing for your older brother) is to set the foundation of the relationship we have together as adults. And we are well on our way.

By the way, there are a few things that today is NOT. A new and sudden independence? Get real. You’ve lived 2000 miles away at school for nearly three years. A jump in responsibility? Not quite. You’ve already doing your own laundry, cleaning your own bathroom, and cooking your own food. Well, two out of three, anyway. One out of three? That being said, I will remind you that you are closer than ever to being off the payroll, and that’s a good thing. For both of us.

Mostly, I see today as not the end of anything, just another beginning. And a series of beginnings makes for a continuum. Rather than a momentous break, or a clear demarcation, your 21st birthday is quiet confirmation that your path is good. My gift to you is an assurance that we will take this journey together, and a promise that I will never stop being your father just because you are an adult. Happy Birthday, Keith.

Love,

dad