Today, Grampa turned sixty, and we celebrated his birthday.
Sixty is a big number to comprehend, especially for someone who can't even count to one.
Heck, I can't even count to zero.
Luckily, I was able to get my hands on a calculator when nobody was looking.
Grampa has been alive for 21,841 more days than I have. That's 718 more months. 524,184 hours. 31,451,040 more minutes.
He's got a lot more experience in this life than I do. He's done a lot, and there's so much that interests him. And because he's seen and done so much, the entire planet is open to him. And yet, whenever I'm around, I've got his undivided attention. Because, in his world, to this man who has been on this planet for 1,887,062,400 more seconds than I've ever lived, I'm the most important person in the world to him. Me. Who's just 74 days old.
Wow.
I'm a pretty lucky kid.
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