Have Some Cake :-)

If I could, I’d share my birthday cheesecake with all of my neighbors here in the blogosphere today.  I enjoy sharing a small bit of this journey called life with each of you, and birthdays are always a good excuse to eat cheesecake with friends. 

~Kelsey

Four Little Words

My birthday is in a few weeks, I’ll be twenty, and as most everyone who has seen or heard from me within the past month knows, I’m very excited.  I don’t have any earthshaking plans, but I’ll be forever rid of “teen” from my age.  I can hear the hallelujah chorus now.

My dad gave me my present yesterday, and with it, a birthday card.  It was the card that got to me, or rather, the note inside.   

There were just four words inscribed, “Happy birthday.  Love, Dad.”  My dad’s never been a writer, so I wasn’t expecting anything profound and poetic, but the fact he’d written his short birthday greeting to me in pen, so there was a permanent record of just much he’d struggled trying to arrange the letters caused a sharp twinge of pain.  Because even in the end, he still hadn’t found the right mix of lettering to spell those four modest words correctly.   

When my sister, Shannon, was little I’d smile at the cute little cards she’d give me, and I’d try to decipher the text as best I could.  It was fine her notes could be a challenge to read, because she wasn’t even school age.  In fact, the illegibility and creative spelling added to the overall cuteness factor, but it’s not cute when it’s your dad.           

Here I am almost twenty and my dad can no longer always address a simple card.  He won’t be able to play a prominent rule in my adult life, because he’s unable to even now.  If I ever get married, he won’t be able to be a the supportive dad he would have wanted to be, and it’s going to be awhile before I’m done with school, because I’d like to get my masters, and by then he might not even be able to fully comprehend what that means.   

The reality my dad won’t be able to be there when I cross each hurdle and enter into each new stage of life, is painful, but the hardest part has nothing to do with me missing out on “dad time,” but that Shannon – who’s turning twelve this month – may not even have her dad cheering her own when she graduates from high school. 

It’s remarkable how four little words can jolt you back to reality, and leave you feeling like Alice tumbling head over heels down the rabbit hole.  I didn’t allow the note to wreck havoc on my day, but I did go for a run to wear off the “Alice” feeling.  Sometimes, you just need to run.