Happy Birthday to Me
A year ago I woke up from trying to sleep sideways in my mostly broken armchair after making one last push to pack up my things for the movers to take to California. It was an inauspicious start to my the day, which ended up being pretty darn awesome. I left Minnesota with a heart so heavy that it dragged on the ground, but something about the endless blue of the sky and the intensity of the sun has kept me sold. A couple of weeks ago Sarah and I walked along the beach — me waist deep in the icy Pacific and her skipping through the frothy edge of the waves — and it felt like what should have been happening all my life.
Sarah is here now, living with me, and my huge one bedroom has become a little claustrophobic: we have two offices, a dining table, and a living room jammed into the living room. When I work from home, Sarah makes me the most amazing turkey avocado sandwiches with smoked cheddar and red onions. Eating one is like being punched in the face with happiness. Not that Sarah punches me in the face — that would leave visible marks.
Call the police, she hits me!
(this is just a joke)