Sarah’s birthday was yesterday. She was nine years old. It is really hard to believe she is that old! She was born in Guam, while her dad was stationed there with the Air Force. She has traveled to more places than I have in her short little life. She now lives in Tacoma, Washington, and I rarely get to see her. The picture below was taken last July when she flew from Washington State to Washington, D.C. to visit with her father, brother, and step-mother. She is holding a picture of Seth, my son, when he was about the same age as she is now.
When I talked to her on the phone last night, she sounded so grown up! She’s all into Hannah Montana and Bratz. She’s making all A’s in school, and says her favorite subject is reading. She has a new baby sister who just turned one year old in November, and her mother is expecting another baby in May. I asked if she got a lot of gifts for her birthday, and she said her “real Dad” sent her a bunch of presents, but she was only opening one a day until they are all opened up. She said the fun lasts longer that way.
The picture below was taken last summer, too, at her Dad’s house. That is him and FabGrandpa there with her. They all look so happy together!
I asked her if she knows I love her and miss her. She said, “Yes, because you write that on every card you send me.”
Thank you, my seester, for sending me this valentine. Although I do like to get valentine cards in the mail from my girlfriends and my sister, Jim and I don’t “do” valentines, just as we don’t “do” Christmas gifts and anniversary gifts for each other. We both feel the same way about that: we both want to be loved and cared for by the other every day. I would rather have a little surprise gift on any ordinary day, than on a mandated occasion. I want him to say “I love you” in the middle of the night, when we both just happen to wake up for a second, you know, when one of us has snored too loudly or something like that.
I love it when he fixes me a cup of coffee with just the right amount of chocolate Coffee Mate. I love it when he picks me up a scratch off lottery ticket when he is at the store. I love it that he will eat all my gluten free stuff without complaint, and that he gets it that I can’t eat stuff like biscuits and donuts anymore. And he always thanks me for cooking dinner by saying “Thank you, my love.” And when I ask him to do something for me, he says “Certainly, my love.”
Yeah, it is a mushy thing, but how else can I tell you about the guy I love. And now, for those of you who don’t know, here is how we met:
I was a divorced mom with three teenagers, going slowly out of my mind. I had bought myself a new lawnmower for my 39th birthday, but it was missing a bolt on one side of the handle from the day I brought it home from the store. A couple of months later I got so fed up with the handle that would not stay up, that I jumped in the car and went to the hardware store that my brother in law managed to buy a bolt to fix it.
When I walked into the store, my sister’s husband was standing there talking to this guy. Alan looked at me and said, “Look what the cat dragged in.” and the guy said, “Why are you talking about this nice lady like that?” to which Alan replied, “She is my wife’s sister, so it’s okay.” and the guy said, “all the more reason to be kind to her.” (ooooh, I liked that) Anyway, the guy waited on me and got the bolt for me and I went home to finish mowing the lawn. I did not even know his name.
So, when I got through with the yard, I called my brother in law at the store and asked if that guy was married. He said no. Then I asked what his name was, and Alan said “Jim.” So, I told Alan to give Jim my phone number and tell him if he was interested in going out to dinner to give me a call. And he did. 16 years ago. On our first date we went to a state park to go for a walk. Hmmm, we did that yesterday, too.