Birthday

December 17 is a birthday that often gets lost amid the holiday chaos. If it's remembered at all, it's usually in the form of a combo b'day-xmas card or gift. One exception is the annual bouquet of flowers I get from Scott, a friend I've known since 1981. Even though we live on opposite coasts with separate lives and rarely keep in touch, his bouquet arrives each year on my birthday like clockwork. Sometimes it's a challenge for him to locate me, as I often escape or go underground during the holidays. But he always manages to get the flowers to me eventually.

For reasons known only to him, it's important -- for 28 years and counting -- that my birthday not pass unacknowledged, that I know there is at least one person who cares and remembers. For this I am amazed and grateful, more so as the years pass. There have been dark times when his bouquet was the only remembrance from the outside world.

Today I give thanks for Scott, the flowers and mylar balloon, and the ray of light they beam through my overcast sky.