February 6th is my birthday. This birthday is a little different from my past ones - it's my first one without either of my parents alive to call me and wish me a happy day, and to relive the day of my birth a bit from their perspective.
To be honest, I hadn't really been thinking about that, which is different from past years. For the past near 30 years, my Dad has made it a point to call me around my birthday, and the first words he would speak after I answered the phone would be along the lines of...
"It was a cold and snowy night, and I had just gotten home with a pizza..."
and I would hear the tale about how Mom went into labor and they went to the hospital and he didn't get any of that warm pizza he had been looking forward to devouring. Of course, in the days well before microwave ovens, he most likely devoured it cold the next day, but that part rarely, if ever, was told, and I couldn't tell you for sure what happened next to the pizza.
My Dad's wife sent me a card that I received yesterday, and inside was a handwritten note. It said:
"It was a cold and snowy night, and I had just gotten home with a pizza..."
and it made me both smile and feel a little sad, simultaneously. But it was still good to think about.


