You know when you are too close to someone, or to some thing ... you can no longer really see all their details anymore? Nor can you appreciate all their intricacies, quirks, charm, uniqueness? You feel like you’re too close to them to be impartial? You’re too close to them to know ... do they have blue eyes or green? Do they roll their Rs or have a lisp? - it takes you a minute to know for sure ...
This is how I feel about you: you consume my every thought every single second of every day. Every minute, I think or wonder: what is she up to today? I wonder what crazy file does she have to wrestle with today that would throw her in the midst of stress and frenzy? What worries will she face today? How can I make her smile more? How can I surprise her more (for I know how you much you love surprises - just about as much as I hate them!)
I asked myself a rhetorical question today: what can I possibly say about you today, for your birthday, that I have not said before? I feel like every thought I ever had about you has been spent. Every word - uttered. Every feeling - expressed. No surprises and no novelty here. Until Aa. blurted out: “She is 45!” - and I laughed out loud! Yep! “A. is 45” has never, till today, been said before ...
When did this happen? 45 years ago today, while I was at the beach with our grandparents, walking the streets, you were born many miles away in our home town. They told me when I would get home, I would have a sister and I did not understand, at 3 years and 4 months, what that exactly meant. When I did get home, I asked them all if you were going to spend the night. That shows you how smart I was ...
But you did spend the night. And every night after that, thank God! And you became part of the family and slowly part of me, too! Your presence, your being, your antics and your life ... became part of mine too.
I think what amazes me, still, 45 years later is how different we are and yet how common our lives have been. We grew together, almost twinned, branches from the same trunk, but turned out so incredibly different. Just like branches feeding from the same life-giving water, we twisted in different directions, we grew a different number of twigs (me - none, and you - two), we turned different directions (you - North, and me - South), we bloomed at different times (you - early, and me - late), we will most certainly turn to fall at different ages, too ... I grew out tough and gnarly, you - thin, slender, flexible like the draping branches of a willow. Both, beautiful and strong, but also both singular in who we are ...
We have faced so much together, in our own time and on our own path. But I never, for one second, ever felt like you were too far away from me. This past year has been so hard! So incredibly hard. And although I thought I knew everything there was to know about you, and about us, I have learned so much more, still. I have learned how much unassumingly stronger (than me) you are. How much more poised and dignified, to my erratic, crazy mess! You have revealed a new sorela to me - I would not say that it’s one I never knew was there, but one that I only guessed that must be dormant, lurking in the darkness, ready to come out when the time was right. And the time for strength, for ultimate, desperate strength, did come this year. And for you sharing it with me, I will thank you forever ...
Happy 45th, Sorela! I wish you many clear mornings with strong coffee and kitty cuddles. Sunny days, as sunny as your own outlook on life. Many runs in dewy meadows, downhill and bug-free. Many days of health and lightness - in body, in spirit, in laughter ... I wish the good and easy parts in you would never change nor spoil. I wish life, no matter how hard, would never harden you. And I wish you’ll know that every day, every second of every day, I am here for you to gladly lighten the load if I can, and just like one branch supports the other, to ask for you to catch me if I am fixin’ to bend.
I remember today more than ever what our parents have always told us: when they will be no longer, we will have each other. This promise on their part seemed but a dream till recently. But after this past year, I am starting to see that day more and more clearly come into focus now, and I am so incredibly grateful that you will be there to hold me up! You’re the only human that knows my past and my soul as well as I do. You’re the only one who speaks the same unspoken language I think and feel.
I wish you the strength, the lightness, the youth of your first 45 years for the next 45 and beyond!
I love you more. Now, and always.
