Technically, I’m a day late, but it’s the thought that counts. Yesterday was my dad’s birthday and I made the trip to Nebraska to celebrate. Birthdays have always been a big deal at our house, with cake and presents and much, much singing. Constant singing. All day. My parents probably find it obnoxious but my sister and I persist.
When we moved to Iowa, I swore that I would make the most of the short drive. I would be there for the hugging and the singing and the cake-eating. So even though I’ve been sick, and even though Mr. Phish had to work and couldn’t come, and even though the forecast is for snow, I made the drive. And I was richly rewarded.
Happy birthday, Pops. I wish you many, many more.