There are getting to be a lot of birthdays around here. :) They afford me joyful occasion to think on someone very dear to me: myself. I watch the clock until the minute when the birthday kid is really his new age, and all day I'm back nostalgiaville reliving the awful drives, the everlasting minutes, the immense relief and thanks, the annoying nurses and the curious nuns and that boring show about counterfeiting that's on the History channel every time we're in the hospital. And, of course, the baby, who delights us by looking like someone or no one, by being astonishingly beautiful or hilariously un-beautiful; who even so tiny bears the weight of a name, who suddenly is with us forever.
Happy Birthday to you, babies, and thanks for giving your moms a chance every year to think, That day, I did something that mattered.