Two days into the new year, 2026, and I met someone that felt like I was looking the mirror, but a long time ago. And I cried. And hope flooded back.

How did this go? Friends were invited, suddenly came and all together, the little family and Andrew and I found a place for food. We sat and had pizza. J, (which felt fun because I'm James to my family and my brother is Jay) asked me politely what I did. For an almost 15 year old, I was impressed with their ability to start a conversation. In this day and age, so many teenagers could care less about the older person sitting next to them at the pizzeria.

So I gently explained, and they looked me straight into my eyes and I said, I don't think I could sell houses. I don't think I read people very well.

I paused. I remember saying such things at 15 years old, and then people realized what that was, and they challenged me.

Or they didn't. And I remember those moments so clearly like a bell. And it all came rushing back as I looked into J's eyes.

So, I said, yah, you could. Because you see, selling isn't really about reading people as much as it is about listening to people. And really, really hearing what they really want, and then showing them what they really want.

And the eyes gleamed because I didn't just answer the question or get a rise out of the challenge but together we thought about things differently. And we talked about math and music and school and work and drawing and writing and how trees have gender until our nerdy hearts burst.

Afterwards, as we sat for coffee, J and Q and their parents, J sat curled up on the couch, engrossed in a phone, but I knew every word we uttered was heard. See, teenagers think they are being sly, but I remember, painfully and deeply, what it was like to be a teenager.

I remember Ron saying how hard life was, and yet how good food and life and happiness and love was.

I remember my Grandfather marching into the house shocking us all for Thanksgiving and listening to me about the boys I liked.

I remember the men and women who listened to me and validated me and then talked big words and conversations to the adults in my life, knowing that their conversations would teach me about life.

And, the other day, I got to do that too. See, I also remember the adults that didn't do that well. Or told me what I couldn't do. And those hurts still hurt, and in order to erase them, I refuse to follow in that path. I refuse to label those young, new minds with labels yet, because they are still learning what those even mean, let alone fit inside them. But at the same time, accept them exactly and completely for who they are, and who they will be, and hope I get to play a role in the now and the future.

Onward, to more nerdy conversations this year!