Thursday, February 14, 2013


Sylvia Plath asked, "What did my arms do before they held you?" What did they do? I don't quite remember what life was like before my children or my husband. Looking back it seems they've been here all along. Of course, they haven't always been in my arms, but I like to think they were part of me when I was young. They were a baby tooth, or a freckle, or skin where now resides a scar, all come back to make me whole again.

I turn forty today. To celebrate, my husband and I are going on a long walk through a state park followed by a picnic lunch by the lake. We'll enjoy the one day this week forecast to have sun and warm temps, escaping the February gloom for a few hours. We'll be silent for long stretches, listening to winter birds and daydreaming of things personal to each of us. We'll fall into long conversations about all things right and wrong with the world and just as we get close to solving everything, the light will change, and we'll fall silent again, each snapping photos of lovely things.

The day will be sweet and slow and quiet. Then, we'll pick up the older kids from school, have loads of chocolate cake, and settle into the comforting rhythm of a Thursday night, which is similar to a loud conga line led by a drunk uncle. Someone will inevitably burst into tears, because it isn't really a birthday party until somebody cries; a phenomenon my kids call 'birthdayitis'.

My birthday wish? Sharing cake, laughter, and tears forty years from now as I wonder what my arms ever did before.

1 comment:

Left-Handed Housewife said...

Happy birthday, Heather. Hope it's a lovely--and love-filled--day!