It's somebody's birthday.
I had the vision of calling at 12:01 am this morning, probably waking you up. Or interrupting a phone call from your father or your baby boy. Restraint is adult-like, perhaps. It's not so much fun to grow old.
Someone had commented on a poem I had written for you. They said they liked it; that they could taste the pain. In it, I talked about being in your passenger seat, driving back from the Norman Rockwell museum in the rain. I kept falling asleep, and would wake to find you humming along to Feist's 'The Reminder' and tapping your steering wheel. I'm sorry I fell asleep on you.
I hope that your day and weekend is filled with lightness and cocktails and girls' nights that are all wooooo hooooo. You deserve more nights like those.
Happy Birthday, Darling.
xoxo,
Dylan
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