JULY 7, 2009

Another birthday. For someone who thought he'd never make it past thirty I'm doing pretty good. A birthday. And it wasn't just any old birthday, it was a lulu. My wife, who is the woman of my dreams, kicked it off with a spontaneous expression of her love, her passionate love, for me. Then—would you believe it?—breakfast in bed (eggs done perfectly). Then, while the world holds its breath, in that delicious early afternoon quiet, I exude a story. It comes so easily it hardly seems to be written. It is kind of a fable, which I would have posted today but I still have such a charge of birthday-boy energy I want to have my fancy run free like a frisky foal in a fresh pasture.

Throughout the day the phone rings—friends and students wishing me happiness. Even my long lost son, Frankie calls. Gradually, sometime during the on-and-off faucetting of the day's gray sky, I sink into a deep, velvety, honey-suckle-fragranced nap.

Late afternoon slides into evening: a joyous time: with a delicious Puerto Rican chicken and rice dish made by my daughter-in-law. Then, still licking our lips, we all—Maggie and Nick, my wife and I and our four grandkids (and they are grand)—settle in to a wild game called CATCH PHRASE. Then comes the cake, which in this case is not one but two apple pies. Followed by more phrase catching into the wee hours.

What a day! And my wife told me to shut up only twice. The only thing missing was the sense that something was missing.

Happy Birthday to all who have birthdays and may theirs be as happy as mine.

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