- Heartfelt
Twenty-one, bro. The world handed you the keys this morning , go drive carefully where it counts and recklessly where it matters. Happy 21st.
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Twenty-one, bro. The world handed you the keys this morning , go drive carefully where it counts and recklessly where it matters. Happy 21st.
Thirty, bro. Let me tell you what I actually think: you have your whole life to be sensible. You had one twenties. Whatever you got out of them, I hope it was worth it. Now comes the part where you know what you want, have enough to want it with, and care enough to go get it. Happy 30th. This is the good part.
Forty, bro. Half a lifetime of being my person , through every version of both of us. Here's to the next half. Happy 40th.
Happy birthday, bro. Every family has a legend. You're ours. This is meant as a compliment, but I want you to sit with the ambiguity for a moment.
Happy birthday, bro. The world handed us each other, and somehow that turned out to be the best thing it handed either of us. The shared childhood. The shorthand. The way I never have to explain myself when something goes sideways , I just call you, and you know. Today the celebration is yours, but the thanks is mine. I'll keep it for as long as I get to.
Happy birthday, bro. You were the first person I knew I'd never have to explain myself to. I still don't. That's the gift.
Happy birthday, bro. You have the rare ability to give advice that sounds like an insult and is somehow still the correct thing to do. I've taken it more times than I'll admit.
Happy birthday, bro. Some part of me was already learning how to be brave by watching you do it. Still am, honestly.
Happy birthday, bro. I've spent years trying to explain you to people who've never met you. Eventually I stopped. Some things you just have to experience. Happy birthday.
Happy birthday, bro. Statistically you should have annoyed me into early retirement by now — and yet somehow you're still my favorite person. Don't read into it. Love you.
Happy birthday, bro. The fact that I still answer your calls immediately says everything about your quality of character and the length of your voicemails.
Forty, bro. The decade where the nonsense mostly falls away and what's left is actually you , no performance, no posturing, just the real version. I've always liked the real version. Happy 40th. And turn down the music. I said what I said.