When I wrote the date at the top of the cleaning clipboard at the warehouse tonight I suddenly remembered that it's your birthday. I had to do the little thing in my head I've done for the last 46 years to remember whether your birthday is the 25th or 26th. April (your birthday month) comes before June (Cindy's month) so you are the 25th and she is the 26th. You would think I would have figured it out by now, what with 46 tries and all.
I'm sorry that I forgot until tonight.
Does that happen to you yet, when March 15 rolls around? Do you think all day long that something is kind of off, and then suddenly it dawns on you, "Oh yeah. . .today is the day I gave birth to my firstborn?"
It's OK if it does. I get it.
I hope someone took you out to dinner tonight. I hope is was someplace nice. You've cooked too many meals in your lifetime to have to cook your own birthday dinner too.
Did Dad bring you flowers?
Guess I better wrap this up. What with not knowing what to say really, and knowing you won't know I wrote it anyway. Just wanted you to know that I remembered.
And that it still matters.