You would have turned 60 today. I know you’d have picked me up from my internship and we’d have gone to your favorite restaurant -where we wouldn’t have asked for anything fancy, but for that great baguette you liked so much instead. We would have laughed and I would have been mad at you for leaving me alone in between bites because you’d have to go out for a smoke.
You would have turned 60 today and I’m sure you’d have said this was your last birthday. You always said that. “It’s my last birthday” “It’s my last Christmas” or “It’s the last time I’m wishing you happy birthday, love”. And well, last November it finally was.
I laughed today because mom boiled some vegetables and fried an egg for lunch. I remembered how you hated it, and how you always told me to persuade her to prepare another thing, not boiled vegetables. I laughed because you came home on your birthday and we usually had lunch together, but today you weren’t here. I laughed and thought about you, about our inside jokes.
You would have turned 60 today, and I have to keep reminding myself that you won’t be getting any older now. I wish you were here so I could tell you about my day, about my classes and about how I passed my driving test. I’m a licensed driver now, dad! I’ll be driving your old Citroën and I’ll be thinking of those days sitting on the front passenger seat watching you drive. Of those days I spent laying on the seat and daydreaming while you just drove me to places, showed me little towns and got mad when I sang too loud -but you didn’t really.
Happy birthday, daddy.
Your daughter, who won’t forget your crazy eyebrows and your frown,