Twenty-one

As always, today.

Fortunately it’s nasty, rainy, and cold…utterly unlike that radiant early spring through which you came and then were gone so swiftly. When every one of those bright, brief blooms would live longer than you did.

 

I often have much to say to you today, on your birthday, the only one you ever had.

 

Today, it's just this: I miss you, love. I'm grieved you are not with us today.

 

Today you’d have been of age to the drink taken, and I’d have pledged you with whiskey and love and pride, my daughter, my dear.

 

 
Instead, tonight I’ll pledge to your memory alone.

 

Bryn Rose Gellar 

March 1 2002-March 2 2002.