Birthday 

Today, somewhere out there, he turns 39. 

His one birthday we had together wasn’t a pleasant one – and neither were the days before and after it. They were pretty bad. 

I sometimes used to sing The Carpenter’s “Top of the World” to him; although looking back, I definitely wasn’t on the top of the world. 

I’m not sure if I’d be able to honestly wish him a happy birthday, but I don’t wish a miserable birthday for him either. 

It’s just… his birthday. 

I just entered my 30’s this year, and he’s starting his last year in his 30’s. 

It’s just another day, but it is his birthday… wherever he is, whatever he’s doing. 

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