I was one of those kids that couldn’t wait to be a grown up. Whenever anyone asked how old I was I would calculate it out for them to the hour, not wanting to lose credit for a single minute I spent on this planet. I was so confused whenever my mom seemed to forget her age (“I’m 35. Or am I 36? What year is it?”). How could she possibly forget something so important?
Fast forward three decades and not only can I not remember my own age, I can barely remember my own baby, Summer Tomato’s, birthday.
I spent most of yesterday on a flight home from New York, completely exhausted. I didn’t even check my calendar until that evening when I needed to know my schedule for today. Then I saw the date.
March 25. Isn’t that important for some reason? Oh! It’s the day I launched Summer Tomato. How long ago was that? Holy crap, it’s been 5 years!