I made cupcakes. The 30th of October marks your birthday and I was thinking of you. We are all always thinking of you.
You come up often and unexpectedly and sometimes in places that surprise me… pleasantly.
We share many laughs; I know you won’t mind that lots of them are at your expense because it’s in the most endearing and cherished sort of way.
Like when we talk about you puttering around in that old diesel Mercedes that you could hear coming from 32 miles away. How you permanently had that small styrofoam cup of lukewarm coffee glued to your right hand, and you’d have us shift the gears for you from the shearling covered passenger seat so you didn’t have to set that precious coffee down. I always wondered what you did when we weren’t in the car… one of life’s great mysteries, I suppose.
We still think it’s hilarious that you fell asleep on the sofa every night with a newspaper spread across your chest and the TV volume set at it’s highest level while you waited for mom to come home from work. And as soon as we crept down the hall and depressed the button to adjust the volume your eyes would fly open and you’d exclaim, “Hey!! I was watching that!!” Sometimes we’d point out that actually you were sleeping, to which you always responded, “No. I was just resting my eyes.”
We laugh about your cream-of-weird-soup-covered-pork-chops that I think was maybe the only meal you ever knew how to cook, and the time that you made Lindsey and I sit at the dinner table until the middle of the night because we refused to eat canned creamed corn. Whenever I hear one of my children tap out that ting ting ting sound the spoon makes when they are determined to get that last bit of cereal or ice cream from a bowl, I think of you eating oatmeal and mom rolling her eyes.
I remember sneaking onto car lots in the dark to get a close-up look at the reeeeally cool stuff without the salesmen asking us questions.
And how sometimes you’d go to the grocery store for orange juice and be gone for an eternity because there is not one shred of peace to be found in a house full of five children, at least 3 dogs and a revolving door of kitty cats. Also… we know you talked to Ali Cat at night while you washed the dishes when you thought we were sleeping.
It still makes my heart smile to think about when I lived far away and mom would put you on the phone, and you’d keep asking me silly pointless small-talky questions because you didn’t want me to hang up just yet.
Michael still rocks your aviator sunglasses. Spencer eats ice cream for breakfast because he’s determined to gain a little weight and maybe one day fill out that worn old leather bomber jacket.
So anyway… I made these double chocolate buttermilk cupcakes. We are thinking of you.