I got up at 6 am and had a shower: warm on a warm day, it was blissfully bright.
I put on my favorite red dress: the one I wore at 18, when I was entering the world as an almost adult.
J kissed me gently, said “happy birthday” as we walked out the door. He gave me a card full of clues that I missed. I opened his present in the car (tickets to see Mary Poppins that night)
I walked to the supermarket to buy some breakfast, thinking “nothing can get me down today”. The air was fragrant and carried happy sounds.
I spent 30 minutes with year 5 + 6. We talked about God’s promises to Abraham: descendants to outnumber the stars; and His promises to us (John 3:16-18, Romans 8:38).
I cleaned the kitchen, one plate at a time, put away the loungeroom mess, ironed J’s outfit, and hung out the washing in the breezy afternoon air.
I called my mum and thanked her for her gift: a pair of socks that she had hand knitted and sent to me in the post. They make me think of pajamas and movie marathons, peppermint tea and warm friendly quilts.
Then J’s family came over with afternoon tea and a gift, beautifully wrapped by the ladies at found.
We sat and talked for a while, and our nephews investigated the unit (which I realised is not very kid-friendly).
I held Harper (my neice, still new) and watched her fall asleep. J brought home sushi, and well wishes from the chef (who, every time we see him asks after our ‘honeymoon baby’, gives us extra food and smiles at us widely).
But even more amazing was my husband, who braved the city traffic he hates, and stayed out with me until midnight, just because.
I could not have planned a better day, even if I tried. Thank you God, for birthdays.