At 1 years old, my brain couldn’t create long-term memories.

At 2 years old, more of the same, but now I could talk.

At 3 years old, I turned a cardboard box into a store.

At 4 years old, Legos became my new best friend.

At 5 years old, I was shipped off to Kindergarten.

At 6 years old, I met my very first best friend.

At 7 years old, I watched the Twin Towers fall. I was angry I couldn’t watch cartoons.

At 8 years old, I began to learn how to sail.

At 9 years old, I uttered my first curse word (and got in trouble).

At 10 years old, I was treated for speech therapy. (Still don’t know why there is an an “s” in the word Lisp.)

At 11 years old, I said goodbye to my elementary school class.

At 12 years old, I joined a private all-boys school. I hated it.

At 13 years old, I fell in love with sailing. Or winning. Probably both.

At 14 years old, I tasted my first sip of alcohol.

At 15 years old, I met my first girlfriend. It was short lived.

At 16 years old, I was deeply addicted to World of Warcraft.

At 17 years old, I became a New England champion in sailing.

At 18 years old, I got my acceptance letter to Brown University.

At 19 years old, I thought I had everything figured out.

At 20 years old, I realized I didn’t. Not even close.

At 21 years old, I was elected Captain of my sailing team.

At 22 years old, I experienced my first true run in with complete and utter failure.

At 23 years old, I joined my parent’s company.

At 24 years old, I developed my first serious health issue. Migraines.

At 25 years old, I quit my job to start my own company.

At 26 years old, I dissolved that company.

At 27 years old, I began publishing my writing.