This morning I am cleaning out my desk drawer and come across the usual odd things that have quietly accumulated without my knowing. I find, among other things, tags from clothes I bought over the summer, wires that may or may not connect to my iPhone, and business cards from people I no longer know-or maybe never did.
I also find a grocery list for Citarella (a store that describes itself as “the ultimate gourmet market”). While undated, this list is clearly pre-Weight Watchers as it includes items like: homemade chicken potpie, potato latkes, and goat cheese. Today it’s more like grilled chicken, no potatoes, and lo-fat cheese.
I also find a birthday postcard from Vivien. Vivien lives in the Boston area, and we’ve been good friends since age 12 or so. Vivien is smart, very funny, and unconventional. My memories with her are vast, and cover many adventures in my life that Alexander will never know about. They were that much fun. And dangerously stupid.
For my birthday last March, Vivien sends me a strange-looking postcard:
On the back she writes,
Happy B-day. Hopefully you didn’t throw this out thinking it was junk mail. I realize this is completely inappropriate as a b-day card but let’s face it-does it really matter? May you make a wish that comes true this year, may you be happier than last year, may you laugh more, etc. etc. All good things.
I loved the sentiment so I saved the card. And when I was re-reading it this morning, I thought now that her b-day wish for me came true. I am happier.
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