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Though I made my living with language, sometimes, when the moment felt too big, I struggled to find any words at all. I’d short-circuit, say something that barely grazed the surface, forgettable and meaningless at the same time. I wanted to tell her how proud I was. I wanted to tell her that the world was so large. So much larger than this. I wanted to tell her to be careful. “Don’t forget to call me,” I said instead, pulling her in for a hug—and then one more, from her father. There was a moment of hesitation, a break in her demeanor—something that seized my heart. A pause of uncertainty. A
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Maybe we didn’t become something in adulthood so much as unbecome.
