Today is my father's birthday, but he'll tell you he's not technically 80 years old until 11:37pm. At least that's what he said when I called him this afternoon to wish him a happy birthday. It would be wonderful to be with him today and hug his neck, but we live in different states now. The funny thing is he now lives in the same small Texas town where I lived for 11 years before moving to Maryland. And he's now married to one of my dear church friends (a childhood friend of his), surrounded by many other good friends of mine who are all taking very good care of him. That's a comfort to me now that I'm so far away.
We had a birthday ritual, of sorts, during my growing up years. The conversation would go something like this.
Dad: How old are you now?
Donna: I'm twelve!
Dad: Oh, oh...twelve! That's right.... Why, by the time I was your age I was fifteen already!
Is it any wonder I was never very good at Math?
Happy Birthday, Dad!