In 2016 on my birthday, I watched Zola make pancakes with her Grandpa.

In 2017, our dog "The Royal Baumer" squeezed out of a hole in the fence and ran amok. Jenny posted to a local pet site of some sort, and one of our neighbors had picked him up a couple blocks away.

In 2018, we went to our favorite Mexican restaurant at the time, and I took one of my favorite pictures of Zola with her Mom. Jenny was sick then, but we wouldn't know why for another three months. On the drive home I cranked Led Zeppelin's Houses of The Holy and sang and talked to Z over the music. The next day I had breakfast with Jenny at First Watch and she recounted the drive home the night before and how overstimulated it made her feel, but she said it in a funny way that I can't explain but it made me split my sides laughing. She often had that effect on me.

In 2019 my friend Anders was in town and we ate at Local Republic. We talked about old times and enjoyed some drinks and I ate mushroom crostini and Korean fried chicken.

In 2020 I ran five miles and later we ate Cuban. It was cold and we ran the fireplace, and I made a drink and listened to the first side of "Scoundrel Days" by A-ha and then Billy Bragg's Workers Playtime. I had celebrated my birthday that whole week somehow. "You really know how to stretch a birthday out", Jenny remarked.

In 2021 my heart was heavy with grief and I thought my life was over, but I jumped in the old Honda Fit, cranked up KCRW's Top 20, and drove out to Stone Mountain and hiked to the top and sat there and tried to enjoy the clear blue sky of that day and the crisp cool air. I talked to my friend Jason on the phone later and he told me a story about buying a new car and apparently pissing off a pushy car salesman. "I will not buy any of these extra packages as long as the federal government does not require me to do so!", he said.

In 2022 I woke to find an enormous sign display in front of my house that said "Happy Birthday BOBBY: THE MAN THE MYTH THE LEGEND". Zola took a picture of me standing in front of it. I have no further notes.

In 2023 I took Z with me to La Fonda Latina on Ponce, and we sat there and chilled, Z on her phone and me sipping my margarita and reading an article in The Rolling Stone on the acrimonious break up of the band "Live". It reminded me of my bachelor days when I lived down the street and would walk to La Fonda and sit on the downstairs patio or the upstairs deck and read by myself on Saturday and Sunday afternoons, drinking margaritas and inhaling chips and salsa.

In 2024 everyone had math jokes. Zola wished me "happy 5 2/10 decades of living" and someone else said that I'd lived the lives of four thirteen year olds and two twenty-six year olds. And I thought, what was I doing at age 13? And I remembered skateboarding with all of us rolling around in Chucks and checkerboard Vans planted on top of Powell-Peralta skateboards. I sat on the curb of the front yard of my house on Bantry Bay, my Steve Caballero lying in the grass beside me, wondering what being an adult would be like, how impossibly long adolescence felt - the waiting room of life, and just wanting my real life to begin.

In 2025 I ate with Z at D'Floridian in downtown Lawrenceville. I had a couple El Ches and devoured the Churrasco. My job was killing me and I talked to a friend about possible leads, and he told me a friend of his had left his high paying tech job and now repairs jet skis and is happier than ever.

In 2026 Z made me an adorable card and promised to work hard and buy me a Rolex for my birthday someday. The night before I had driven her home from the hair salon with her new cut and color that she hated, and she called herself "chopped" and made me laugh like Jenny used to do, and I wished she was there with me and for her to know how smart and funny the human she brought into this world has become.

We drove to Leon's Full Service and I played Liz Phair's Exile in Guyville. I tried to sell it to her but Z told me she preferred something more poetic like Fiona Apple. I argued that Phair didn't use fancy language but there was something honest in that, but Z wasn't buying it.

Walking to the restaurant from parking, Z was concerned that she looked like just another white gentrifier, and i assured her that the gentrification of Decatur was pretty well complete at this point. We sat on the patio and watched the passersby. We ordered the calamari, which was delicious with the pickled onion, and Z had the burrito and I ordered the flank steak with a side of brussels. I had two cocktails; the first was good but the second too sour. Afterwards we walked to Jeni's Ice Cream and sat on the steps of the square, staring down the customers sitting outside in front of The Iberian Pig and Belene Bistro.

Driving home I played my Favorite Waxahatchee songs, "Fire" and "Crowbar". Z fell asleep. I put on Fiona Apple's "Paper Bag" and she woke up singing it. "You could raise me from the dead with that song", she said.