Nobody was swept away in the ocean. We didn’t sit on the cracked kitchen linoleum eating Subway sandwiches before going back to house renovations. It didn’t rain, but it wasn’t warm either. I hope it was more than just another Saturday.
He is patient, kind and unassuming. He gives to others with no thought of return. He loves unconditionally with his whole heart, saving nothing for later.
His birthday has never been the party he deserves. Yet he always makes sure mine is.
He is impossible to buy for so I don’t. I tell him what I want him to have and make him get it. I’m such a catch! He doesn’t mind. At least he doesn’t say he minds. I think he loves the hunt more than the kill. Researching the best product for the best deal is what he lives for. Who am I to take that away from him? A card with a line or two saying, “For your birthday I want you to get . . .” seems to work for us.
One year I surprised him. I bought The Barbecue Bible by Steven Raichlen. Not only that but I bought it online! With minimal help. He was impressed. I don’t know if he cares about the book. I tried to get something that would be useful to his passion and expertise in grilling. That year it was the thought that counted most.
Somehow showing our love for the most important man in our lives still felt self serving. He suggested lunch at Mr. Pickle’s Sandwich Shop. He likes the sandwiches. The kids are in love with Mr. Pickle, an employee dressed in a huge oversized pickle costume holding a sign for the cute little sandwich cafe. The kids could not wait for lunch time.
He started one of the Star Wars movies. Three little ones immediately snuggled up to him sneaking their way under his blanket. The movie was enhanced with “I love you Daddy!” “Are you having a happy birthday?” “When will it be lunchtime?” as well as my heavy footsteps upstairs while I worked out with my cartoon trainer Julio.
We walked to Mr. Pickle’s. One mile in the blustery wind up and one mile back. At home we ate the cookies from lunch then headed back out to the park so the kids could play. Not much of a date but it was very romantic anyway. Nothing compares to sitting close to the one you love, holding hands, in awe of the children you created together, and dreaming of the future.
My birthday gift to him was pizza. Money is tight as we save for trips and visitors. He told me not to get him anything. I wanted so badly to do something special. He means everything to me. What could I do for the one who does so much for me?
It came to me. Pizza. I hate pizza. To my family’s disappointment it is true. My family eats it every time I’m out of town or out to dinner with other people. They are pizza deficient because of me. With my mad money I gave the gift of pizza. He said he wanted the full pizza experience. So we braved the winterish temperatures again to enjoy Round Table Pizza.
He thinks he’s getting old. I don’t agree. He has been blessed with a baby face and blond hair. He holds his age well. I don’t really think of age when I think of us. Age is frozen in time. He may as well be the 25 year old I met at my grandparents house. Age is just a number we recalculate once a year on our birthday.
Maybe time has aged us. I refuse to see the physical effects of time. Time has made us grow. Closer. Wiser. So unbelievably in love it’s funny we ever thought we were in love years ago!
Happy birthday to my perfect man. Thanks for sharing your day with us.