are you in?

I was eating a sandwich and watching Ted make a casserole. I know his birthday, and he knows mine, it turns out.

His is soon. Mine is far.

“But my birthday is always sucky,” I told him, and it’s true. For years and years it’s ranged to mediocre to really miserable.

“Well, then I have a goal for this year,” with a glance over his shoulder.

He turns back to chopping chicken and misses the wide-eyed, eyebrow-raised face I make.

I should let it go. But I want to hear him say it.

“So. You think you’ll be around for my birthday? It’s a long time.”

We count off months. It’s far. We’d both more than double our adult dating records.

“At this point, I have no reason to think I won’t be.”

And even though his casserole looks disgusting, neither do I.

~beatrix