I've often wondered what people mean when they say "today is the first day of the rest of my life." I think they mean that they are going to change something in their lives, to improve their circumstances. It makes me wonder when the first day of the rest of my life was. The obvious choice would be the day I met Christa, because so much changed on that day.

Maybe it was the day of my first speech therapy session, when I was nine- although nothing the therapist told me made any sort of difference.

It could be any number of days; it would take me far too long to list all the "first days of the rest of my life," that I have experienced over my years. By the way, the voice you are reading this in sounds nothing like my voice in real life; I guarantee you that.

If I were to read aloud the first sentence of what I have written, it would sound like this:

"I've often wondered what puh-puh-people muh-mean when they sss-say "tud-today is the fuh-first day of the ruh-ruh-rest of muh-muh... muh-my life."

It started just before my ninth birthday. Maybe in every three sentences, I would stutter once. Every three sentences became every other sentence, which in time became just about every other word. I do not want you to think that I have a sort of fondness for my impediment; believe me, it has been nothing but a burden on me these twenty years past.

Maybe that's why I'm writing this. When I put pen to paper, my hand doesn't spasm like my voice does. I don't have to repeat things multiple times for people to understand me. It brings a fluency to my voice, that my speech is severely lacking.

I suppose the real reason I'm writing this is because I need to articulate my early experiences with Christa. I became the man I am today because of her. There is no doubt in my mind about that.

I'm getting ahead of myself, and thus forgetting about simple formalities. My name is Luka. I like to read. I like to write. I like going for long walks, and generally being boring. On average, I say one full, fluent sentence a year. I am writing this because we never talked about it, Christa and I, about our early life together, when we were first in love, at the vulnerable age of sixteen. That is the story I want to tell, and there is no doubt in my mind that "the first day of the rest of my life," took place somewhere at that time.