Instant panic. In seconds, the quiet McStore turned into a hide-and-seek arena. We scrambled in and out of the store, frantically searching for our little adventurer.
“Check the deep fryer!” Rissa shouted.
‘Close Encounters of the Third Kind’ came rushing to mind.
We finally found him inside a nearby video arcade, his neck outstretched, watching older kids playing games. He was completely unbothered and oblivious to the terror we were having for lunch. We, in contrast, aged a decade in those ten minutes.
Forward 25 years, and the boy who wandered off is now the man who keeps us on course. Literally, like a compass. When we travel, Rissa and I willingly switch into what we call “bobo mode” because we know Andre (and happy-meal Nikkei) have it all figured out —directions, itineraries, logistics —you name it. But, much like those McDonald’s meals, I still paid.
His influence extends into our lighting design firm, Toespin. Previously, I would say he “works for me.” Now, I proudly say he “works with me.” Of course, he complains occasionally, frequently, but that’s ok.
Andre, the best golf coach I never asked for, introduced me to the game. Now, the fairway is our shared playground. Despite missed putts and lost balls, we’ve had more laughs than birdies. Joy doesn’t always come from perfect drives but from being together.
And, of course, his barista skills. The boy who once disappeared is now the man who fills our cups —both literally and figuratively.
Andre, as you turn 29, know this: the best is yet to come. Life rewards hard work, kindness, and faith, and you embody all of that.
Happy Birthday, son. Thank God for returning you to us all those years ago. You have led us ever since.
Now, give me a cortado, please, so I can raise a toast.
Cheers!
If you’ve been touched, amused, or entertained by this post, or it put a smile on your face, please favor me with a cup of coffee. I will continue writing.
Subscribe to receive an email whenever a new story is published.