Happy 9th Birthday Zachary

         As the night draws to a close, I'm glad when I can finally fall back on to the couch next to Mike. Another year, another birthday for Zachary filled with a house full of screaming nine year olds plus our rambunctious crew. But now, for the brief moments after we put all the kids to bed until we collapse in ours, the house is quiet. 

     "How do you think it went today?" Mike asks me. "If screaming is any measure of joy, I think we nailed it," I respond. I know what he's thinking, he tells me every year; "Why do you always go overboard with his birthday? On our birthdays we just got a cake." He's right. I do tend to try and one up his birthdays. Maybe if he wasn't so darn happy and grateful about it, more thoughtful then any boy his age should be, I wouldn't do it but we both know why. It's the knowledge that he almost wasn't that makes the celebration that much more meaningful. Just thinking about it makes me long to see him one last time tonight.

     As if reading my thoughts, and let's face it, after eighteen years together he can, Mike gives me a light shove, "Go on. Go see your boy." I climb up the stairs and quietly enter his room. There he is, bundled up under the sheet where all I can see in the dark is his disheveled locks peeking out. I try not to make a sound as I climb in with him and pull down the covers to see him. At nine years old it's hard to catch him standing still for a minute and when he is he would rather wrestle with dad or play ball with his brothers then snuggle with his mother. The older he gets, the less time it seems he has for me. But here, in the dark, with only the light of the moon, he is all mine. He looks so much younger than nine when he is at rest and so much like his father it makes my heart hurt. How can I love someone so much? I lean in close and kiss his soft cheeks and take a deep breath. Sweat and cake. That is what he smells like at nine. I don't want to forget that smell or this moment. I know I should head downstairs and clean up the mess left in the wake of the hoards of children but I resist and inhale one more time. This moment won't last long and I plan to savor it. 
Sweat and cake. How I love you Zachary. Happy birthday.