Letter From the Candle Smoke

To 2019 Me,

Has it really been 5 years already? Time… what a bitch, huh?

Dude, you’re a dad. By the time you open this letter, you’ve been a dad for nearly five years. But right now, it’s still pretty incredible to think about for 2014 Me. In little more than a month, Zackary Xavier Relyea will make his grand entrance. I think we’re pretty well set: spent 2 hours building that crib, got batteries for the baby swing, sterilized the bottles. I mean, we are good to go. And yet I can’t stop freaking out. What if my own son doesn’t even like me? I’m sure you’re reading this now telling me how insane that is, but it’s a legitimate fear right now. Jess tried to hand me her friend’s newborn last year and I … was so afraid I was going to break it. And when she tricked me into holding it, it just cried. What if my own kid does the same thing? I’m sure I’m freaking for no reason.

Weird to think that in 5 years when you open this letter he’ll be getting ready for kindergarten, and I haven’t even met him yet. It’s bizarre imagining this little life taking place between writing this letter and reading it.

How is Jess? I’m sure she’s kicking ass at the whole motherhood thing. By the time you open this, it’ll bet 12 years together and nearly 6 years of marriage. They say becoming parents changes your relationship drastically. And I’m not going to pretend that’s not going to be the case. All I can tell you is to not to forget it. Becoming parents is chaotic enough, but in the end you gotta hang on to yourselves. Take a date night away from the baby, have her kick your ass in Soul Calibur when he’s asleep, take some time for you to be people in a committed relationship and not just two rival executives in a family company.

I hope you’re still writing. I hope I never do give up on it. I’m blindly optimistic that in 5 years, I’ll get signed and be doing million dollar book signing tours and, quite literally, live the dream. As I’m more than reasonably certain that will not happen, I hope you’re still giving it the ol’ college try. To be honest, I couldn’t care less about the getting signed or the book tours. I just want to be read. I’m a natural born storyteller, and I need my stories told to people who would listen. Just keep at it. Someone out there needs your story; probably you yourself.

28 is this weird age. I think the Barenaked Ladies put it best and once sang, “Old at being young, young at being old”. I can’t help but wrestle with the notion that I’m stuck. I’m at a decent job at the hospital, but like… is it a forever job? Am I going to be here still by the time I open this letter? And would that be a bad thing? And am I running out of time to do what I want to do? Actually, what is it I even want to do … (besides write)? I hate that I don’t have the answers to any of these. Way back when I was a teenager (I’m sure YOU remember this), I had this notion that everyone had to have their shit together by the time they were 25. Then as I was approaching 25, I relaxed a little and said “Eh, no, not 25… it must be 30 when everyone knows what they’re doing”. Well, here comes 30, and unless I get it all figured out in 2 years, looks like the “Get your shit together” target is further down than expected.

You’re 33 now, Future Me. Do you have your shit together? It’s ok if the answer is “no”.

Happy birthday, Future Me. See you in 5 years

Robert J. Relyea, 2014

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Dear Past Me, 2014

Of all the quandaries in life, one certainty rises above the rest. That time is, most definitely, a bitch.

Dude, I’m a dad. That feeling hasn’t faded in 4+ years. That elation of being able to help raise a child does not fade, not a bit. I’ve had the same excitement about it since the moment Jess called and said “So I have some news…”. I remember that fear of him not liking, and it pleases me to announce that fear faded in a light speed instant. The moment he came out and he looked at his mom and the nurse handed him off to me, there wasn’t a single moment of doubt that this kid would like me. I cannot express how minute this fear is now, you and he are best buds. Best day of my life was when he was 3 and a half, gave me a hug and said “Daddy, you’re my best friend!”. Enjoy that moment when it comes up, Past Me, it’s awesome.

Zack is about 3 weeks away from starting kindergarten, and it really is surreal. It’s like you said, since I wrote this letter to now has been his entire life. And he’s about to start on square 1 of the 13 step education system. It’s astounding because now he’s up to the point where I can remember; I distinctly remember my first day of kindergarten. And to know he’s about to have that is really tripping me out. I can’t imagine how Future Me 2024 feels about it.

As expected, Jess totally kicks ass at motherhood. Some people are born to be parents, and she is definitely one of them. Her friends have been calling her “Mom” since before she had Zackary. I won’t deny that becoming parents has shaped our relationship. But to be honest if having a kid doesn’t change your relationship, then your priorities haven’t changed enough. I won’t say “rival executives”, but there is a certain, almost business level partnership that goes into raising a child together. There’s no denying the change, it’s adjusting to it that’s the trick.

And the adjustment is a constant. Sometimes you fall into the trap of seeing each other as co-parents and as sailors trying to keep the SS Family from running aground. But you had it right, Past Me, about hanging on to yourselves. Things change the older you get, and we’re not perfect with the adjustment (we haven’t played Soul Calibur in ages) but we still have an abundance of love for one another, and have made all the adjustments that we were forced to go through. Relationships evolve, no couple can stay in the “new-and-interesting” romancing the stone era forever. Couples who can’t evolve will fall apart, and I’m happy to say we’ve made every evolution that we’ve had to face in the last 12 years and will do so for years to come.

I don’t think you’ll have to worry about me ever giving up on writing. I did face a pretty hard truth about it in the last five years however. I conceded that it is very likely I will never be traditionally published like I hope. The odds are just too high. Does that mean I stop trying? Of course not. Does that mean I stop writing? Hell no. It’s just an admission to myself not to expect too much. I’m the same as I was back then in that I have stories to tell, and I will continue to tell them. And if by some miracle I get a snag with one of them that lands me an agent, then awesome. I’m just going to continue to write. There hasn’t been much in the way of finished works in the last five years, but the chess pieces are still moving forward. In the next two years, there could be between 3 and 5 works that will cross the finish line. So you keep writing too, Past Me.

Dude, I so don’t have my shit together I probably have even less shit together than you do, Past Me. And I’m getting to the point where I wonder if anyone truly ever has their shit together. It’s a little surreal when you realize there is no next level, this is the top floor. No next level of adulting. You are an adult. And if you are this scatterbrained, then everyone might be too. Adults seemed like they knew exactly what they were doing, but it’s more than evident that NO ONE knows what they’re doing, you just get better at going with the flow. Adulthood is just faking it til you make it–but making it is not a given, so you just end up faking it for the rest of your life.

The answer is no, and I don’t know if the answer will ever be “yeah, I totally have my shit together”. But I am a pro at faking it (… … you know what I mean)

Happy birthday, young guy

From, Future (Present) Me 2019