First and last Birthday

It's impossible for me to conceive of life without you.

Four years ago today you took your sweet time being born, keeping everyone waiting and letting the Doctor know things will happen when you're ready, and you aren't available "on demand."

It's your birthday, number four, and your Mom and I are still in a state of shock that we lost our minds and had you ... a 43 year old incredibly sexy woman and a 64 year old man nearing sunset over the Ocean.

Every day we spend lots of time together.

You are a spinning ball of loving, crazy, spontaneity discovering everything in the world for the first time while I'm seeing them for perhaps the last.

Your enthusiasm overwhelms my melancholy as you invite me, demandingly so, to take the swing beside yours ... hold you in waste deep water so waves hit us in the face and we laugh emerging from each baptism holding tightly on to each other, or you're endlessly crawling in my lap to introduce conversations I'd never, ever, imagine.

It's your birthday and you'll get lots of presents from your friends who'll gather for your celebration and they'll be games, cake, pizza and prizes.

But Che-bay, you are the most precious gift!

Every single day you make Sarah Elliott, your sisters and me laugh as you force us to look at the world from your perspective, where the world is new, sometimes terrifying yet full of beauty to enjoy.

There are good people and bad people and you're quick to give everyone the same chance to share your world but you're fast to run away from those who don't bring joy.

"I lub you Da," you tell me a hundred times a day and, sometimes, it fills me with such appreciation I can't speak but hold you close, burying my nose into the crown of your head and I kiss your hair while breathing in your aroma.

It's your birthday.

But you're the gift!

I love you so Che!

Happy Birthday!

And thank you for giving me so much life at a time when I can desperately use it.