August 3, 2008
You are twenty-six. I wish I could roll over and plant a little peck on your punum, and then as you open your eyes wrap my arms around you completely. That would be a present to me, to behold my sweet one, who has reached two baker’s dozen years in this world.
People might find it strange that in my youth I found someone whom I still want to hold onto so tightly. Perhaps because the luck eluded them, or the spinning forces made it impossible to nurture a union at that age for them. Perhaps the forces have been conspiring for us, to remind me how special you are, to remind me how rich my life is because of you, and to remind me not to relinquish that hold. And even in our time apart, I never forget what a precious person I am forever connected to.
If it’s common for partners to find each other later in life, that’s fine, perhaps that very fact underscores how uncommon our love is. And it came despite my own attempt to spurn it, and that our stations in life and career choices have inevitably complicated things, we have weathered much already. Those are all the normal realities of life we deal with, and it seems the delicate bond between two humans hasn’t been squashed for us, but grows. The story of our feelings has its own life, despite each of us. It’s grown from mad love to enduring, and now it’s the three of us (Love, that is, taking on its own texture and flavor, the whoopie in the pie).
So this birthday marks for me the 8th birthday of yours I have known. It is the years I have spent learning about you that validate me as a qualified witness to attest to the miracle of the life of you.
A woman so beautiful inside she hardly knows how beautiful she is on the outside.
A woman so wise she remains humble both to others and the world around her.
A heart so tender it’s mere existence edifies, when in her presence others learn to feel even deeper.
A femininity other women envy.
A sexuality that burns hot, whose embers glow when she lets it breathe.
A strength she knows inside but does not yet acknowledge, for it could scare the tenuous
balance of the very being she is trying to mold, one with grace not entitlement or domination.
A simplicity to appreciate what she finds in life, devoid of arrogance to assert her claim on more.
A sensing that remains incisive, confounding her lover and close friends every day.
A desire for goodness few understand.
An appreciation for splendor, that the world will always bring her comfort and awe.
May you have a lifetime packed beyond your imagination. Continue to be a walking mystery. To a woman whose mind and thoughts are ultimately unknowable, I am grateful to know even a micro-fraction of you.
This year you begin a new quarter century. Now, people begin to listen. And wishes come true. Though I am not there to be with you, I’ve been conjuring you all day, and can’t wait to celebrate when we’re reunited again.
Please call your mother for the tale of your birth.
You have all my love.
Whoop
yourwhoopie [at] mywhoopiepie.com