Friday, June 26, 2009

Another Birthday Story

C.S. and I figured we could be meant for each other when we discovered we were born one day apart. That means we get to celebrate Birthday Eve, like New Year's Eve, where midnight means his birthday and my birthday touch.

It also means we add our birthdays together and celebrate that number instead of our own personal numbers. It helps take the sting out of the magnitude of the personal number. Trust me, this year the total of our ages is one seriously large number.

Rather than dwell on that . . . .

I'm adopted, and my parents took me home from the hospital when I was three days old. I don't know who my biological parents were. Because everything was prearranged, I went straight from the baby window to my new parents. It was kind of a family joke that when they handed me to my mom, she handed me right off to my dad. She was so excited and shaky, she was afraid she'd drop me.

Here's the scene almost one year later, at the first in a series of birthday parties. I've heard tell that I was afraid of the beach ball, but you can't tell from this picture. I'm thinking that fear was probably counterbalanced by my first encounter with birthday cake.

1 comment:

Talk to me! I love external validation.