I started making dinner on my birthday about 6:45 p.m. My stomach was a little bit upset, and I wasn’t keen on eating much of anything, so I settled on mashed potatoes, corn and barbecued chicken. I had it just about done when Dan came in the door, with flowers and chocolate.
Now, that was a surprise.
He returned to the car, and came back in with strawberries and angel food cake.
Now, there was another surprise.
As he cut the strawberries, he told me that he had left work early, but there was a lot of traffic. I told him that it was good that he hadn’t come home any sooner, because I wouldn’t have had a clue what we’d be having for dinner. “I thought I’d left early enough to come home and make you dinner.”
And now, I’m dumbfounded.
From that point, he did everything. He served everyone dinner, and then birthday cake, and he (with a little help from the boys) cleaned it all up. I sat back and enjoyed - it’s hard to soak in so much pampering and attention. I am not ashamed to say that I loved it, it was just wonderful. I’m writing it down but, I won’t forget anytime soon.
This might be normal birthday fare for some, but not generally here. Dan isn’t much for celebrating birthdays, maybe because his own birthday is five days after Christmas. Growing up, his birthdays weren’t much fun for him, and generally his siblings (he was the youngest) treated it like Christmas leftovers. He makes "the cake" - and I am talking a Most Delicious Sour Cream Chocolate from scratch Cake. He always finds a gift. I can't have that cake anymore, though because of all the fat. I wasn't sure what he'd do. I just wasn’t expecting all of the time that he spent thinking about it, and making things nice for me. That one detail puts a glow on the entire evening.
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