Pookie's Birthday.

2002-07-13 - 8:19 a.m.

Today is Pookie's 35th birthday.

I don't know who he was from birth up until about three and a half years ago, though I can make guesses.

Sometimes the little kid in him shows through, sometimes for good and sometimes for evil.

I know that once his twin younger brothers put him in the dryer. I know that a summer job he had was to mow the lawn of the church, graveyard, and seminary.

I know that his twenties were mostly turbulent, that he made a lot of mistakes, and went to a lot of parties.

And I know that by the time I met him, when he was 31 and I was 21, he was already shaking off the dust from his mistakes and going to school to earn his BA in Theology.

I think that he's pretty handsome, even if he thinks mid-30s is old. I think he's an admirable fella. I think he's done a lot with his life and has a lot to give.

I think he's afraid that I feel this way about him, sometimes, in the same way that I'm afraid of how much he seems to love me.

I hope that this year for him is better than all the others before, that he finds at least the beginnings of his true happiness, and that he takes the best kinds of risks.

His birthday is a clean apartment, my undying love, and probably something else, which I have not bought for him yet, because I don't get paid until Monday.

Happy Birthday Pookie.

(Oh, and since he doesn't often read these, I feel I can safely mention that this week I'm going to start squirreling away $50 each paycheque...hopefully by our aniversary next year, in February, I'll be able to buy him an engagement ring or some other piece of jewelry. Shhh!)

Cheers,

The Magus

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