And I love how intent you are when you watch a movie, how very studious, because you, like me, believe with all your being in movies, in the stories being told, just as you do with wrestling.
And how you looked after we gave you the pink medicine for all your earaches, so relieved with the pain gone and no more need to cry.
And how well you deal with being just like me, or at least so much like me, bearing the blessing and the curse alike, because yes, I believe it’s a bit of both, but which more than the other might be hard to say, and believe me, I would know because I’ve lived as me longer than you have as you, more than twice as long.
And how you slept on the floor in our bedroom for so long, there on the carpet until maybe age three, close to Mom, and who could blame you.
And how you respect and trust your mother, how much you love her and recognize inescapably how much she means to you, and to us all.
And how you still believe in women, in romance, in love, in all the promise and possibility, as well you should.
And how you love your sister, how you admire her tenacity and ambition, and would do anything for her, how you would protect her against any threat no matter how small.
And how loyal you are to Mike, and how well that Newsday piece of yours turned out, and how taken you are with action heroes and superheroes, how these characters animate your imagination and excite your creativity and fuel your aspirations.
And how you you’ve turned out to be such a gentleman, always polite with the Vilettas and the Dreyfusses and acquaintances we might chance to encounter on Queens Boulevard, and how well you’ve treated your girlfriends, even those undeserving.
P.S. – Part 3 will appear tomorrow.