Today is Holden’s twenty-fifth birthday. There is cold potato where my heart should me, my throat has forgotten how to swallow, and once again my brain cannot make sense of this. There should be balloons, there should be cake. I want his name spoken, his face touched and his laugh heard. I want him here, and because that is not possible, I want him present in whatever way he can be conjured.
I imagine birthdays past. Cupcakes and blue icing on cheeks, water guns soaking hair, laser tag all sweaty and smiling, slip and slide in the backyard, the coveted Complete Calvin and Hobbes Collection; the shouts and laughter. A summer birthday has fewer guests and more outdoor fun. As he got older, new cel phones, clothing, dinners out, a trip to New York, a case of Ichiban noodles and that first legal beer. I recall practical gifts for a burgeoning new adult life. Continue Reading →