Itās my birthday today, and this picture sits next to my bed.
Which is totally normal. Very casual. Not at all concerning.
But itās true.
Every morning I see this little guy in the glasses, the aggressive tropical shirt, the peace sign, the big smile, the full commitment to whatever was happening here, and I ask some version of: would he be proud of me?
I know that sounds like something youād see printed over a sunset on Instagram in 2014. I hate that for all of us.
But I also think about it a lot.
One annoying side effect of building Escargot is that I apparently canāt just have a normal birthday anymore. Iām sitting here noticing which messages make me feel something and trying to figure out why.
Birthdays do this thing to me where all the versions of myself show up at once. People text from different eras of my life. Family remembers one version. College friends remember another. My wife knows whoever I am now, for better or worse. Someone sends a photo or a story I havenāt thought about in 15 years and suddenly Iām like, oh right, that guy existed too.
And sometimes the best birthday message isnāt the most emotional one.
Itās the one that gives you back a part of yourself you forgot.
A nickname.
A story.
A dumb picture.
A āremember when you used toā¦ā
A sentence that makes you feel briefly reintroduced to your own life.
Thatās the thing Iām noticing.
Thereās being remembered in the basic sense: someone knows the date, says the nice thing, does the birthday ritual. Which is lovely. I am pro-birthday ritual. I have sent many deeply average āhappy birthday legendā texts and will continue to energetically do so.
But then thereās a more specific kind of remembering.
Someone remembers you accurately enough that it pulls an old version of you back into the room.
The goofy one.
The earnest one.
The one who had no idea what he was doing but was weirdly confident anyway.
The one before he learned how to make everything so complicated.
Thatās why specificity matters to me. It doesnāt make a message more impressive. It makes it more transporting.
It says: I remember you from there.
And weirdly, that might help you remember yourself from there too.
I donāt want to force an Escargot lesson into this too neatly, because then this becomes exactly the kind of post I would make fun of. But building a thoughtfulness company has made me pay attention to this stuff in a way that is probably annoying to be around.
I think the thing people want is not always a perfect message.
Sometimes they want a little proof that some version of them still lives in someone elseās memory.
Anyway, thatās my birthday thought.
I hope this kid would think Iām doing alright.
I also hope heād tell me to chill a little, which feels fair.
Xoxo
Live, laugh, love