Happy Birthday, Honey
Thirty-eight years ago you came into this world. Born to a Coastie, you traveled the US. Life wasn’t always easy for you, and you found trouble wherever you could. Eventually you ended up in Kissimmee, where we met. A down and out musician and a self-destructive chef. Not much in common other than our need for each other.
You saved me from a bastard of an ex and going home in shame. I like to think I saved you from yourself.
We lived together for a while, got pregnant, then married, and the rest, I’m looking forward to learning.
A month ago, one month before your 38th birthday, you bravely decided to take your destiny in your own hands. You joined the Navy Reserves. The oldest new recruit anyone we’ve met to date has known. You are kicking ass. You are doing better than you thought you would. And you sound truly proud of yourself, for once.
And I am more proud of you than I ever have been before. And you have had many proud moments already (though you may not think so). This has been difficult. I thought it would be easier. But not being able to talk to you has been hard. Three weeks without hearing your voice was almost more than I could bear. And Thanksgiving with no word was nerve-wracking.
But today, on your birthday you got an hour. One whole hour to talk on the phone. It was bliss. I missed you so so much. And when we got to the end of our time, all I wanted was more. Now I must go back to snail mail. Hand written letters, with the four day delay in receiving them. <sigh>
I can’t wait to see you. 3 weeks. Exactly 21 days and I can see you. Hold you. Kiss you. Then you are taken from me again. Hopefully just for a little while. I hope.
But in the meantime, I will take what I can get. What the Navy will give me. I will take an hour on your birthday. A very happy birthday indeed.
