It's His Birthday

The birthday season around here starts with a bang on May 1 when both Jessie and my mother have birthdays. May 24th is May's birthday, then June 10th is Hanks. Jason's is June 15th and today, June 29th, is Mr. Moon's.
Six birthdays in two months.
It doesn't sound like such a lot but when you're as old as I am, time already flies at supersonic rates and it seems like every day I wake up and it's someone's birthday.

And today, as I noted, I did wake up to a real birthday, Mr. Moon's, but he had gotten up early and gone to the gym like the good boy he is and I slept late, dreaming of houses, the way I always do. These days I wake up and I think, "Where have I been? What did I do?" and oh yes, is it a birthday?

Anyway, fifty-seven years ago Mr. Moon was born. His mother told me that when she went into labor and Glen's daddy took her in, the nurse hurt her feelings so badly by saying, "Well you don't look big enough to be having a baby mouse."
This is not what people said to me when I was pregnant which was mostly, "Are you having triplets?" which also hurt my feelings and which is why you shouldn't say stupid things to pregnant women.

When my husband was born, my mother was pregnant with me. She is from Tennessee, which is where Glen was born, I was born in El Paso, Texas, where my father was in the army. Glen and I met in Tallahassee, Florida.

He was married once before he met me and I was married once before I met him.

When I was a young girl, living in misery and fear, I had a dream one night that stuck with me forever. I dreamed of a boy. He was standing there and he held his arms out to me. That was all. It was the most loving gesture and sometimes, when my heart was broken or my spirit was broken or my soul was broken, later on in life, I would think of that dream and wonder where that boy was. The one who had merely held his arms out to me.

The second time Mr. Moon came to my house I looked out at the window as he got out of his truck, holding flowers, and I said to the person sitting there with me, "That man is going to ask me to marry him."

I think maybe I recognized him. He had already held out his arms to me in real life, the first time he'd come over and so by the second time, well, I knew.

These days when we sit on the porch together and we look at each other and declare our abiding love and remark how far we've come and how rich we are in love with each other and our family, he always says, "I told you. I told you it could be this way."

He did and since I had no reference for such things, I almost kicked him out. I tried, in fact, during the early days.
But.
But.
Maybe that dream, the one of the boy holding out his arms to me, had told me that there was a man with whom my life would be safe, would be good, would be spent in love.
And somehow, I finally let him hold me, truly, and he's been holding me ever since, truly, and here we are.

I am going to make him a red velvet cake. I think he mostly just likes cakes with cream cheese frosting. We're going to grill burgers at Lily and Jason's tonight. Our grandson will be there.

He was born fifty-seven years ago and a month later, my mother had me.

It took us almost thirty years to find each other but we did. At the right time. When we were both ready. Well, one of us more ready than the other but...

Happy Birthday, my love. Please keep holding me. And I will hold you, too. It works out nicely that way. You got here a little bit before me but we found each other. And you've taught me so much about love and courage and work and family. I am grateful for every breath you've ever taken and ever will and keep on breathing forever and ever, okay?

And one more thing- you just keep getting better looking. You handsome thing. You strong, sweet man.

I love you.

Keep having birthdays. I'll bake the cakes.