With so much to savor, the sad yearning I know is still there seems to have thinned and pulled back its teeth.
Happy bittersweet birthday driver#
I could have floated home, and in some ways I do with our driver capturing the essence of what the day has been about: simple, joyful connection reminding me I matter. For three hours, we laugh and catch each other up on our lives, while joking with our attentive waiter who makes such a fun and outrageous show of serving us, I proclaim he deserves an award. (Yes, I have an obsession.)īy the time I meet my friend for dinner in the city, at a restaurant I’ve always wanted to try, I feel utterly spoiled and lucky.
My mom and I browse through some of our favorite stores after lunch and stop for lattes at a local coffee shop before driving to her house, where my brother and his family stop by to wish me happy birthday and my niece presents me with the most fabulous pair of toe socks I’ve ever owned. The three of us have long made a tradition of celebrating each other’s birthdays together, but we fell off schedule last year and are thrilled to finally revive our club. On the schedule are massages for both of us and then lunch with her best friend at a sushi restaurant I haven’t been to in years but loved the first time I ate there. I’ve taken the day off and my mom, who celebrated her birthday the week before, has, as well. Even as I reflect on the year past, and all its challenges, I know they brought me to the woman I am in that moment, and I am proud of who she is and who she is becoming. So while my ex is among the thoughts flitting through my mind the morning of my birthday, I make a conscious choice to be grateful for the fullness of my life. By the time her husband took her out to dinner, it was the precious topper on a richly satisfying day.
Happy bittersweet birthday movie#
Rather than relying on her husband or other loved ones to make it all she hoped it would be, she orchestrated a celebration that fed her every whim, from the morning coffee she picked up on her way to delight in the tulips at Longwood Gardens to the movie she treated herself to and the Dansko outlet she visited to find a beautiful pair of clogs. I took a page from a good friend’s book, who a few years ago inspired me by crafting her dream birthday. It’s hard to believe dread was a threatening menace the day before when each moment wings from joy to joy. And that sense of celebration only deepens as the hours wear on. From the moment I awake to singing voicemails, and texts and phone calls from friends and family, I feel enveloped in love and appreciation.
Yet I brace for an equally expected absence, for a silence I imagine will snake its disappointment into my day, despite all I’ve planned to ensure a surfeit of happy activity.īut as I look back on my day after I get home that night, I can honestly say it was one of the best birthdays I’ve ever had. Sam spoke quietly before leaving, "Happy birthday, Dream.But surely, on my birthday, he’ll make an exception, I think, push past that boundary even at the risk of aching hearts and stirred-up longings to cradle me in a brief and tender gladness. Thank you so much."Ī tear dripped onto the edge of the paper, and Dream hastily wiped the remaining tears off his face. Tears that had previously only rimmed his eyes now dripped down his cheeks. Happy birthday.' Below the note were two signatures, Puffy’s and Foolish’s. On the inside, Puffy had written 'Happy 22nd, duckling. One of Puffy, Foolish, and Dream when he was little, and the other of him, Sapnap, and George from a couple years back. He pulled out a small blue letter, decorated with designs of balloons. The envelope had already been opened, probably another security measure, but Dream didn't care. His hands were shaking and threatening to spill the soup, so he set it down and picked up the letter. "Puffy's soup," he whispered, almost dropping the container in shock. Puffy's mushroom stew, a childhood favorite of Dream's. Today."ĭream opened the round container, and the smell wafted over him. "W-Why." he managed, tears barely audible in his voice. Inside was a small round container, a letter, and a slice of cake with lime green frosting.ĭream's eyes widened and he put a hand over his mouth. He sank to the floor to open the box, setting it in front of him and pulling open the lid. Sam put it through the slot, and Dream took it. It was a thin white rectangle, small enough to fit through the mail slot in his door. "What?" Dream looked up, and saw the box Sam was holding.
"Got something different for you today." Sam's tone was quiet, kind, and entirely foreign to Dream.
"Dream," Sam repeated, right next to the bars now. Sam was coming through the prison, bringing dinner, the same as every night. "Dream!" Sam yelled, his voice echoing against the cell walls.ĭream didn't look up.
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