it was my birthday today
and i'm about to go to sleep
for the first time in over a day.
little Boobie had surgery this morning
a doctor took out her adenoids
like they were a bad memory
and now they're sitting in a jar somewhere
waiting to be disposed of
and i'm finally home
after a restless night on a concrete couch
and she's fine, thanks for asking.
within about three hours
she was playing on the doctor's office floor
and the way she uses toys is:
she picks them up
hands them to you
smiles when you take them
this morning i woke up CHiP
and said "HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANDY!"
so I took him out of his crib
gave him a bottle
which is as fine a ratio as I've ever encountered)
and we went for a drive in the car
he wore his fire truck hat and held his green car
"this is my green car."
and we went to nona and papa's house
then i went to work
and prayed for six hours
that boobie wouldn't fall victim to narrative structure
because nothing terrifies me more
than not knowing which act i'm ending
or which is just beginning.
so here i am
and i'm finishing an episode of sons of anarchy
and sipping at some high west
reveling in the mountains surrounding me like chicken wire
and staring out the window of my new apartment
wondering what you're looking at right now
(twelve days after my birthday)
boobie came around and changed everything.
it was the best (late) birthday present i could've ever had.
last night, her dad pointed to me and said
"ruby, do you know who held you more than anyone else
for the first two days of your life?"
and i smiled, remembering those days
how nothing could ever be more than that.
but this afternoon
i was given her clean bill of health and her lortab giggle
and tonight i'll sleep soundly
knowing that beauty and decency
can't be stifled by post-op narcotics
even in someone less than one year(s) old.
here's to 26
and my favorite girl in the world.
and to you (yes you, reading this):
i love you.
and i just want you to come home.