I hardly recognize him.
This isn’t the pimply, pockmarked face under greasy hair I remember from high school.
This can’t be the guy who got spitballed and wedgie’d, who was tripped in halls, who had his lunch tray dumped on his lap.
This can’t be that guy, because this guy is glowing.
I see him in the grocery store, pushing a cart with two little kids, smiling brightly like the gold band on his finger.
I go home and look in the mirror and see myself as I am, and I can’t help but wonder how he got everything first.

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Photo by Edgar Soto on Unsplash