A Very Special Birthday Gift

The Wife asked me yesterday what I’d like for my birthday. Seems I have another one coming up next month. I only had to think for an instant and knew what I wanted more than anything else. Framing her face with my hands, I drew her close, kissing her lightly on her lips, and told her my desire: to have an entire day spent just with her.

There have been but a few times in my life I can honestly say that I was in love. True love, not passion that lasts only a few hot fleeting moments, is a rare thing indeed and something we never forget. This kind of love inspires everyday writers to become great laureates or musicians to write love songs to be sung for a hundred years.

When you find that true love, the impossible becomes the possible. A true love helps lift the everyday burdens of life off your shoulders just by being there. We may not remember who we dated last month, or who gave us those gold earrings, or why we have not one but two extra large coffee cups with the Starbucks logo on them in the kitchen cabinet. But without exception, we all remember our first true love. Mine was a girl named Candi.

Candi entered my life halfway through the third grade at Mount Olive Elementary School. She transferred in from California mid-way through the school year and was like no other girl in Old Mrs. Crabtree’s class. She had long blond hair that spilled around her shoulders and halfway down her back. Her skin was so tan, it shined like copper, and when she walked by, she smelled just like coconuts. She walked into the room, sat right behind me and my life changed forever.

From the moment I saw her, grass seemed greener on the playground. Mr. Winker’s flower garden in front of the office smelled better, and the beatings I took from Bully Brad didn’t even seem as bad. Heck, even the food in the lunchroom tasted good, a sure sign Candi and I were meant to be together.

Maybe if I had actually talked to her and told her how I felt, she would have gone out with me. But that would have to wait until the eighth grade. Back in the third grade, I had issues.

I was shy, tall and skinny. I wore hand-me-down clothes, sported two big front teeth and had a hideous nickname. I was picked on a lot and got into many fights. For punishment I had to clean Mrs. Crabtree’s erasers. Thanks to me, by the end of the year she had the cleanest erasers in school.

The Wife? She says she likes the way I look. Never has made fun of me. Even though, if you look at the picture above, there’s a lot to make fun of. She thinks wrinkles on a man’s face are sexy. That’s good because it seems I get more everyday. She does have a nickname for me, but it’s not hideous.

And when we fight, a rare occurrence, it’s because we want to spend more time together but can’t because of our busy lives. And even though she is a school teacher, she’s never had me clean her erasers after a fight. Now that’s true love.

The Wife and I have been married almost seven years, seven wonderful years. Sometimes it seems like forever. It’s hard to remember my life without her in it.

Yesterday she asked me what I wanted for my birthday. What could she buy to make me happy? As I answered her, I framed her face with my hands - the flecks in her blue eyes sparkling as she smiled back at me.

I held her close and whispered, “What I want for my birthday this year and every year, my love, money can’t buy. All I want is you. Pick the time and place I’ll be there.”