I am barely a grownup.
I don’t have a table. And this two-person celebration has been forced to become an indoor picnic.
I cooked. And it turns out my oven does work.
I didn’t have plates. I bought two just for today. And two forks and two knives and three spoons; one of them is big.
I was going to cook meat for you because it was a special occasion. But my mother reminded me that I don’t know how. That chicken came from Whole Foods. I threw away the package.
I made your gift. So I can only hope that minutes mean more to you than money.
And it’s hard to open because I used packing tape. I ran out of the regular kind.
The ice cream melted. It seems easier to move in four months than to defrost the freezer.
I put on a party dress for you and pearls, because I thought you’d like that. I just didn’t have time to do anything to my hair.
I was going to take a picture because it will never be your 26th birthday ever again, and we should commemorate. I just forgot.
I am barely a grown up. I probably shouldn’t buy any of those cute aprons from Anthropologie. But I am in the healthiest relationship of my entire life. Thank you for that. And thank you for spending your birthday with me.
~beatrix
