22

I LOVE my grandparents. I feel like they’ve rescued the day… because it’s been tough.

First of all, no one should have to wake up by 5 on their birthday. But when you have to catch the 6:15 commuter rail into town because you stayed too late on the porch in the country celebrating Father’s Day, well, you do what you gotta do.

My mother was sweet enough to leave a birthday card for me.

Other than that, it was just a crappy day. Birthdays are never crappy for me — I spend all year waiting for the next one… as if by celebrating a birthday I’m some how catching up to the age of my friends. (For some odd reason, I don’t feel like I’m gaining any ground in this regard.) This year, it was just another day of work… a day full of stress and preparation for the big presentation we have to give tomorrow. I only got one birthday hug (but a few birthday wishes -- thanks!). And it was nice out — I should have been at the beach!

Instead, we packed it in, traveled to the Cape, and did a practice run of tomorrow’s big event. This went wrong, that's not ready, and I have all those other things to do this week... and I'll be out of the office until Thursday.

But things got better when I found my way to Grandma & Papa’s. They made the day special. We had an absolutely incredible dinner at Abba in Orleans, dessert with a candle, and the sweetest card. I am incredibly grateful.

We just arrived home and I’m exhausted. It’s the craziness of the month. The swings of the day. The stresses of tomorrow. The pleasant heaviness of good food & wine in my tummy.

But you know it’s a sad sign when you beat your grandparents to bed.