A pendant was something I had never been given. I had never been given a medal or trophy either. I had never been slapped on the ass outside of my sex life and I had never been able to reach a high-five. I never saw a sneak preview screening of a blockbuster movie or found paper money on the ground. I never ate somewhere that made me wear a tie. I never shared a firm handshake, with or without eye contact. I did not eat anything with the crusts cut off. There were no badges on my Boy Scout uniform, which didn’t exist. Instead of these things and countless others, I have only filled my life with its own tiny moments, hoping they would be the stuff of poetry, which they never were.