I had an when I was 17, and about eight months after I surrendered to God I cried about it when I was 38.
I remember I was somewhere when I was twenty-something, on the cliff of a rock, I think, in the air, with the ocean below. I was with a friend I think, at the beach, when I pondered that the child might be 10 years old now. I thought about it for the first time then, the gravity of it, I think, when I was somewhere I’m not sure of, it seems right. The memory of it is all wrong.