I torture my poor wife on my birthdays. Not on purpose, mind you. It's just that I'm one of those people who often feels like life is speeding by, like a Chicago 'L' train packed with passengers that won't stop for me. Everyone is already on the train, heading somewhere, and I'm standing on the platform with my suitcases. Birthdays are mile markers, and they mock me. "Haven't finished that book yet, have you?" "When are you going to start that documentary?"
And so my gift to my wonderful wife this year is that I'm going to try to be just a little less worried about catching that train and be a little more content sitting with her at the trainstop.
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