Another year older, another year wiser, another year of becoming more Utahn, another year of puppy cuddles, another year of good food and another year of being completely loved by me.
Some might say you’re livin’ the dream.
I don’t have any pictures of a young birthday you, but I imagine the cake-smeared face, the smiles against a backdrop of balloons and shreds of wrapping paper, the Star Wars or Transformers figurines that I’m sure made an appearance.
Neither you nor I are big birthday people, preferring quiet celebrations at home over a crowd, over a chaos. We’re simple like that, but it doesn’t mean I can’t make a big deal out of today, your day, even if it’s just for us.
I’ve always loved celebrating your birthday. Summer birthdays tend to be more fun with their sunny days, endless hours of daylight, vacation opportunities, picnic potential, and laid-back mood. Seemingly better than September, start-the-school-year birthdays.
Some days I feel like we blinked and found ourselves in our thirties. I still see us as the spirited 20-somethings that wanted to take on the world, who made ends meet in the craziest of ways.
Your first birthday we spent together was in Rome. Hard to beat, I know. Someday we’ll go back and play the older-wiser card, but really we’ll just be running around like the twenty-nf83hw72ns we once were and loving every bit of it.
Actually, we’d probably still be looking for the Trevi Fountain.
But until then, here’s to another year. I’m so glad you were born, but even more glad that you’re spending the rest of your ‘another year’s with me.
Happy birthday with all my love.