Dear Harrison,

I was showing an apartment tonight to a couple of potential renters, and found myself just a block away from the apartment building your mom lived in when we first started dated. Just a little over a block away from there was Parrots, her neighborhood bar.

Our second or third-and-a-half date was there. Half because that night was really her birthday party, a lot of other people were there too, one an ex-boyfriend of hers who was still holding out hope they might get back together. I didn’t know that at the time.

But they obviously didn’t get back together, lucky for you and me.

Your mom and I had our first kiss in front of her apartment building. It was at the end of our first date. We had had a few drinks.

I said to her, “I think I want to see you again.”

She said, “I think I want to kiss you.”

And so we did. We then said goodnight, and I caught the bus home.

Depending on when you’re reading this, it might weird you out a little bit to hear about you mom’s and my first kiss. But before we were Mom and Dad, we were just Betsy and Dennis, two people who went into the evening thinking our date was going to be a couple of polite drinks before telling our mutual friend, Aunt Annie – who introduced us, and I’m sure she’s reminded you of that more than once – thanks, but no thanks.

But lucky for you and me, that’s not how the night went.

One day, when you’re a little older, I’ll tell you the whole story about our date that night.

Love you, son.

-Dad