Tomorrow is The Husband's birthday.
Tomorrow is my birthday.
That's not a typo. Or a metaphor.
We were in college together, on the fencing team, when I found this out. Sitting around with other team members, eating Chicago-style pizza and drinking Shiner Bock, we were talking about genealogical signs. "I'm a Gemini," sez me. "So am I!" sez he, "When's your birthday?" "June 20." "Me, too!" he says in amazement.
I didn't believe him. Figured that was one of the worst lines I'd ever heard.
He showed me his license. I still didn't believe him. I'd never met someone who shared my birthday before.
It was such a gift from the universe, my b'shert and I having the same birthday. He's exactly one year older. I tease him that I was his first birthday present.
In truth, it is the other way around. From my 10th birthday until when I met him, my birthdays were not a real celebration. Three days before my 10th birthday, my 23-year old brother committed suicide. So you can imagine the feelings swirling around our home every year at that time.
Not that my family didn't try. In fact, on my 10th birthday, just the day after my brother's funeral, my other brother took me and two friends to see a movie. Superman. Won't ever forget that. How smart and loving was he, to do that?
Through the years, we'd have cake and presents, sometimes a party. But it always felt forced. I'm sure my parents would have loved to just hole up under the covers that time of year. But they pushed on.
So, you can connect the dots here. To share the same birthday with my best friend ... it gave me my birthday back. And every year, it's like a little gift from the heavens saying, "You two are special. You were meant to be each other's."
It's been a heck of a year. In only 6 months. But I had him to share it with, dividing the sorrows, multiplying the joys.
Happy Birthday to us.