Twenty years ago today, I gave birth to a daughter. She was born almost exactly two and a half years after her brother. I have always thought there was a certain symmetry or connectivity in their birth dates and times. His birthday is the 28th; hers the 27th — she came a day early, as if knowing the coincidence otherwise would have been just too much. Male born in the heat of July; female born in the cool of January. He was born in the daytime at 1:24 PM; she in the nighttime at 3:46 AM. If you add 2 to each number of his time, you get hers.
What is the significance of all this? There isn’t any. Probably these are things only a mother could find fascinating.
Yesterday I made a cake for that daughter. Her favorite. Today I brought it to her and we went shopping and ate an early dinner and it was sunny and warm and we walked and talked and laughed and hugged and it was good.
And then I came home and changed the cat litter.
Happy birthday, baby girl! I love you.