“What do you want for your birthday?”
I glared at my husband. “I want to forget I’m having one.”
“Well that’s not going to happen. It’s not every day you turn…49.” He smiled sweetly.
“I don’t know why you say it like that. I really am going to be 49.”
“Believe me, I know. I’m just giving you a hard time.”
“Gee, thanks. Remind me why I’m still married to you after 30 years.”
He moved in close, put his arms around me and nuzzled my neck. “Marble cake with raspberry filling and white frosting for your birthday? I promise I won’t put…49…candles on it.”
“Oh, yeah. I remember now,” I breathed, pulling him in close for a kiss.
After a long moment, he gazed lovingly into my eyes and said, “I bet Publix can make your cake gluten free so you can have some.”
“That is…so…” I groped around in my brain for just the perfect word. Even my colon wasn’t going to let me forget I was going to be…49. I gave up trying to locate that perfect word and substituted “…sweet.”
“No, what’s sweet is that I get to celebrate another birthday with you. How did I get to be so lucky?”
I smiled through the tears. “You rock,” I answered, punching him on the arm like a gawky seventh grade girl in love for the first time. I may be a few days from…49, but I’m not old yet.