Saturday, March 9, 2013


Two of us sending post cards
Writing letters on my wall
You and me burning matches, lifting latches,
on our way back home
we’re on our way home………
You and I have memories, longer than the road that stretches out ahead
                                                  - Beatles

You always made my birthday special.  When we were dirt poor, living in a shack in Missouri and the dog ate the chocolate cake you made me, when you were deployed to the desert and still managed to call me, or it was just another Thursday running around from one activity to the next with the kids.  Or last year, when you were in the hospital going through chemotherapy and you got the nurses to let me take you (in a wheel chair, in a mask and gown) down the street for a cup of coffee.  
You always took time to find a card worth giving and wrote something sweet in it, I still have every one.  All 21.  Sometimes there were gifts – nothing elaborate, we weren’t like that.  Stuff that mattered to me, though.  A coffee thermos that promised to keep beverages HOT for up to 8 hours (because I am a little nuts about only drinking HOT, HOT coffee).  New running shoes when we were training for the marathon.  My favorite kind of socks (because I am very picky about the kind of socks I wear) in PURPLE….. so, stuff that showed you knew me and took notice of the little details that made me – me.  
The kids and I had a Dr. Who marathon today, and they made my day special by not wishing me a happy birthday, but just by being near and letting me cry while I missed you so much I could barely breathe.

Can the child within my heart rise above?
Can I sail through the changing ocean tide?
Can I handle the seasons of my life?
I’ve been afraid of changing
‘cause I’ve built my life around you
Time makes you bolder
Even children get older
I’m getting older, too
                                               - Stevie Nicks
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