26

There’s this thing we do. I always call him on my lunch break and inevitably we talk about the night before. It’s a weird and unplanned daily ritual that we fall into subconsciously. We talk about if he was snoring, or if I was talking in my sleep. He’ll tell me he was cold so he tried to snuggle up to me but I told him I was HOT and SCOOT OVER; I don’t remember the entire episode at all so we laugh. He asks me if Peggy was in bed with us and I tell him about waking up to her sleeping on my feet and how in my half-awake stupor I had no idea why I couldn’t move my feet and being very disoriented and finally discovering well, there is a cat on my feet. So I picked her up and moved her onto his back and he laughs because he remembers waking up to her on his back and how heavy she felt. He tells me that he put an extra blanket on me before he left for work. I tell him I didn’t want to get out of bed. And that’s what we do every lunch break; talk about our night of adventures that is always some variance of the night before. It’s probably the most mundane thing two people could talk about. Tomorrow is his birthday and he’s 26 and there’s not really any milestone that is attached to 26 because it’s simply 26; it’s just him existing another year. But he exists with me. I love sharing every night with him and sharing every mundane thought I’ve ever had and suddenly it’s exciting, hilarious, and joyful because I’m sharing it with him.

Happy Birthday. You're my favorite.