On Your Birthday in 2013

On your birthday in 2013, I made you a photo book that has "February 2012" written not once, but twice, in it.

On your birthday in 2013, you worked until 1:30 in the morning, because you were pulled onto another client's audit end after yours was over.

On your birthday in 2013, both of our boys were up crying at 5am, and though I told you to go back to sleep, you said you'd rather spend the time with us. So we all trooped down to the kitchen. Finn and I had made the dough for chocolate scones the day before and had cut them out, so we put them in the oven. I needed to make the ganache to put on top, but I'd also promised Finn that we'd make green play dough "in the morning, " and wouldn't you know, our son made the argument that it was morning. So we started on green play dough while you tried to get Eamonn to eat something, and then all of the sudden there was a sizzling sound and I turned to see the cream for the ganache boiling over its pot on the stove. The bottom burned and quite a bit of smoke started filling the kitchen, so we opened the door to the deck and the door to the garage and we had a cross breeze going and then you also got the tall standing fan. And there we were, all four of us, with wind whipping around us and the fan whirring and ganache setting and play dough stirring. It was 5:35.

On your birthday in 2013, I probably won't see you until after 9pm, and maybe not at all. So I think about how much I look forward to the stuff that maybe other people don't; mainly, to getting to be old people together, if we're that lucky. And what I really, really look forward to is getting up with you and going for a morning walk and then coming home to read the newspaper, maybe two, with our coffee, and toast for you and oatmeal for me. It will be quiet then, but I know we'll talk and laugh about these days, which never are.

Happy 32nd, Jeffrey!