I know I just wrote you and you're not expecting to hear from me but, it's my birthday and I'll do what I want and I want to write you.
You are a celebrator of birthdays!
There is cake, wrapped presents, thoughtful cards and a theological belief system predicated upon the entire Universe stopping for a day ... with every single Angel in Heaven singing "The Beatles" ..."They say it's your birthday! It's my birthday too ... We're gonna have a good time!"
You were raised to believe birthdays are every bit as important as Christmas and if Jesus gets his day then we should have ours too.
I wasn't raised that way.
There were 3 kids plus two adults and we could only afford three birthday cakes each year.
Every third or fourth year we celebrated mine.
My sister Angie seemed to have one every year ... the rest of us rotated.
So it was never that big a deal ... except for Angie.
Plus I'm pretty self-depreciating and enjoy watching and helping others have fun more than me ... though I do enjoy myself and am as content as I've ever been ... primarily because I've never EVER been content ... until you.
The best part of my birthday is we didn't start it on time.
We stayed in bed, sleepily loving our togetherness.
I'm uncertain who gifted me the girls not being home right now, and I sure miss them, but it was a damn nice way to start a birthday.
By 9 though life gets in the way and I'm making phone calls for possible work and your fingers are flying on the keypad and ... it's just another day.
There was this moment though, you're sitting in the chair working and I kneel in front of you to say "Thank You" for the best present I've ever received.
You.
Let's uh ... find ourselves some sand tonight ... and celebrate.
Okay?
ME
