I’ve barely had a chance to log into Facebook since school started, but yesterday I was driving along with my 10-year-old, Anna, when “Jessie’s Girl” came on the radio. It ignited a memory that I had to share.
The year was 1981, and my second-grade bestie Becky Christian and I decided we were going to craft a love letter to Rick Springfield. I don’t remember which one of us penned the letter, but we both contributed each line of amorous prose over hushed giggles. When it was finished, we stuffed it in an envelope, sealed it, and set about to the task of finding his mailing address.
Somewhere during that process, I stopped dead in my tracks and said, “Wait a minute. We can’t send this letter. What if he reads it and thinks we LIKE him?”
Becky blinked at me for a second, rolled her eyes and said, “We DO, dummy!”
This memory made me laugh so hard I nearly veered off the road while recounting it to Anna.
My next thought was, “Damn, I wish it were October 8. This would have made the best birthday post ever.” (Because every grown woman can recall her elementary bestie’s birthday.)
I was going to stick this on Becky’s wall, but then I thought, I should take the opportunity to wish all my friends whose birthdays I miss year after year a happy one. Because of all the things I suck at in this lifetime, that is in the Top 10 of things I suck at it the most.
I’ve deleted my birthday information from my Facebook account because I decided I’m unworthy of your birthday wishes. Not to mention, my birthday doesn’t spark the same excitement it did that year Becky and I professed our love to Rick Springfield.
As an epilogue to my story, I don’t remember if or how we unearthed his address, but I’d like to think it somehow made its way to Rick, and that he still reads it from time to time through wistful tears, sighing over what could have been before tucking it beneath his pillow.
Happy belated birthdays, all, and happiness for all your birthdays to come.