Which means I must be turning 28 soon. I thought I was turning 29. Or 27. I don't know.
When you were wee (you were 5 and I was 10) I used to babysit you, even though I was only wee myself. I used to take you to the school holiday programmes with me and we made kites out of rubbish bags and sticks and spend hours making paper mache animals. Sometimes before I walked you home we would share a can of raspberry soda even though I knew you weren't allowed it because you were hyper enough without sugar or red food colouring in your system.
When you were bigger (you were 11 and I was 16) and I lived with you all during the week you used to come watch Pokemon on the TV in my room, every day after school, without fail. We went to your school gala and you caught me kissing the future father of my children behind the prefab buildings. You then proceeded to ask me, in front of literally our entire family I might add, who I was kissing and asked in earnest why I was kissing a boy behind the prefab building when I apparently had a boyfriend in Auckland. Whoops.
The last real time I spent with you you looked more like a man (you were 16 and I was 21). You begged to come stay with me during the Big Day Out and then managed to pinch half my beer. It was Christmas, it was hot and you were wearing a black wifebeater. I thought that was hilarious.
The last time I visited you properly, for more than 2 seconds with a screaming toddler trying to run away that is, I was with your mum and we lay in the hot summer sun making grass angels atop your grave.
Happy birthday Josh. Today we celebrate the day you were born. Although I'm sad for all you are missing out on, all that your mum and siblings are missing out on but I try to think about the years and times we did spend with you. They were awesome and ...I'm trying not to be sad.
