The air is warm eerily warm for a late April evening especially after a Winter who overstayed his welcome. We are driving to dinner. Your Grandma points out the red buds.
"They were in bloom the day you were born," she says.
This is a detail that never crossed my mind: red buds in bloom the day I came home. We have a red bud in bloom in the backyard.
Later at dinner she leans in...
"You were two when I turned 32," she says looking at Jack and I with a gleam in her eye.
And that night she hands me a journal of exchanges between her and I. For a few years we wrote to each other...a safe dialogue and place to store honest thoughts. She is always one upping the birthday before with these gestures, but this year feels different perhaps it's because the distance between us now is greater and these interactions are more sacred. She also gives me the most comfortable pair of shoes reenforcing her thoughtfulness. A mom never thinks to splurge on comfortable shoes.
As we sat on the front porch watching Jack race around on his tiny new motorcycle, I couldn't help but be taken by pure joy sitting alongside the two people who gave me everything, the one person who gives me everything daily, and the little boy who looks at me like I am the most beautiful creation in the universe.
I want to be just like them. All of them.
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