Birthday 51

Yesterday was my birthday. It was harder than all the holidays since Tom died. Here is why: My birthday is about me and Tom made it triple about me.

Back in 1982 when I had this nutso boyfriend we started celebrating birthday week. When I met Tom we continued. It goes like this. You get seven days of celebrating leading up to your big day. We used to just do it so that starting on Sunday we had fun everyday to the birthday and that was great if your day landed on a Friday or Saturday but if it hit on a Monday you were screwed. So now it is seven days before, during, and after.

Every day of birthday week you get a present. It could be a silly present (e.g., a stuffed animal, a glow in the dark ring), a practical present (e.g., a battery charger, a hoe), a decadent present (e.g., those ice cream balls covered in chocolate, a hard cover book), or maybe a love present (e.g., a pair of earrings, a soft t-shirt).

On the last September 27 in which Tom made me princess for week, my big gift was a hitch attached to my car to carry my bike rack. He made a big sign and covered it in a big bow. Everyday I look at that hitch with love.

Thanks to amazing family, wonderful friends, and an unexpected cool front the birthday went from massively suck to decidedly nice. But I promise that no one will ever give birthday week like Tom did.

Thanks for the love Tom, and the hitch, and the glow in the dark ring.