Tales of a Christmas Heretic
Three Little Guidelines

About Time: A Birthday Letter

Dear Tom,

So yesterday, I was driving around town . . . running errands . . . and this song came on.  Coldplay's Clocks.  And I got thinking about clocks.  And time.  And your birthday.  And I got to wondering just how many of your birthdays we've celebrated together.

So I counted them up.

Today makes 39.

We started out with your 21st.  It was December 20, 1979, and I picked you up at Stapleton International Airport in Denver.  You were a senior at Boise State; I was a junior at the University of Wyoming.  And we had a whole month together for semester break.

Remember that one?  I gave you a giant afghan I had crocheted!  (And we still have it.) 

Back then, we looked like this . . . 

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Turns out . . . there have been 38 more of your birthdays together, counting today.

We've celebrated your birthday with parties.  We've celebrated quietly at home.  We've had birthday breakfasts and birthday lunches and birthday dinners.  One year, we were getting ready to move and packed a few boxes on your birthday.  And you were only days away from defending your PhD thesis on another birthday.  There was the now-famous "Chocolate Vesuvius Incident" on your birthday in 1995.  We've celebrated your birthday on vacation while skiing in Steamboat Springs.  And we celebrated your birthday in Akumal, Mexico once.  

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That's a lot of celebrating your birthday together! 

Time.

It flies. It marches on.  It waits for no man.

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I couldn't really imagine all these birthdays-to-come unrolling before us back in the airport parking lot in 1979.  Yet . . . here we are.  Thirty-eight birthdays later.

Happy birthday, Tom.  

I love every minute I get to spend with you!

XO,
Me

 

 

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