Who's Birthday Was It?

Like I have written before: The joy of him in my life. We never had children, we were too busy being kids ourselves. Here we were:  him in his early forties and me in my "after" mid thirties. We really didn't keep up with each others age. Every few years we would ask each other how old we were and we would both accuse the other was lying. How time flies when your having the time of a life. His birthday was Oct. 5 and mine was Oct. 8. We celebrated two different days. Only because it was a contest who threw the best party. Two birthdays, two days of surprises. It was challenging fun.  Well it so happened to be his birthday. Always before mine. Sometimes I asked him to trade with me. He said in a teacher's way, "No, you would get the advantage." How could I beat that. So today was his birthday. The 5th of October, it was suprisingly warm outside. I was a machinist so I always came home after him. I smelled of oil and metal. I was late getting home picking up food from four different fast food restaurants, all his favorites. I also had a new suit for him: black silk, whiteshirt, red silk tie, and black shiny shoes. Just like he liked to dress when we were out or he was playing his bass for a band.  Now the fast food restaurants was another thing, for a complete meal he only liked certain foods from certain places. So it was to be a makeup for a complete meal with drinks, main, sides, and deserts...you see where my travels took me. Window to window. I left everything in the car when I got home, I wanted to be the first to hug him and wish him happy birthday. But when I got home there weren't any lights on, the air was off and lots of candles burning. It was surprisingly hot in the house. He liked it freezing and I liked it hot. So I didn't need a heavy sweater today. I called for him, no answer, I turned the fan on and all of a sudden five dollar bills came showering all over the room. I went to the bedroom more candles no answer when I called for him. I turned on the light the fan came on more five dollar bills. I went to the bed to see his postal jacket lying upon the spread. Where was he. His jacket was on the bed. He always hung it up when he returned home. I called him Mr. Rogers who just got back from visiting the neighborhood: won't you be mine." Don't laugh but he would change his shoes also. Suddenly something grabbed my ankles from under the bed. I screamed and fell backward I tried to crawl away until I heard a long shshshsh. He was him. He came out and pounced like a lynx on me, resting his weight on his elbow. He asked in a silvery voice, " Are you Ok, you are not broken, I did not hurt you?" I melted like butter. A man I lived with so long still could stir inner feelings. No I wasn't hurt. He relaxed, I could feel some of his weight on me. Why was he not sweating in the black suit he was wearing? No tie this time. But the always blacksocks and shiny shoes. With one stroke he pulled something from his back. It was in my face. He said, "Happy Birthday!"  What I was looking at was a birthdaycard that wasn't any bigger than a businesscard. He was beaming. Like Christmas morning. But it was his birthday not mine. I took the little card and opened it. A piece of paper with the number five written on it along with a safety pin. It was a surprise I thought and asked in excitement, "Where do I look?" Looking in my eyes, touching my chin with his long elegant fingers, "You will never in my life have to look for anything, I will make sure it finds you." This was too good to be true, I was in a romance I could only read about. Then the moment was broken when he said pin this on his sleeve. I did. We were just about to kiss when the smoke alarms went off.  The fives were on fire in the living room. Candles. After the smoke cleared he set me on the sofa and brightened up and said in a matter of fact way, "I have something in the oven!" I joked that he wasn't showing yet. He smiled so big. He reached in the oven and pulled out a pizza. He looked silly with oversized ovenmitts. And the charred dishtowel. Candles. I looked at him with interest and asked him where he would like me to pin that on. He shied away bent down and sprung up with a newly decorated handmade felt pizza with what resembled pepperoni lettered into a five. The material pizza was 10 inches in diameter. It had multicolored felt mushrooms, green felt peppers, and black felt olive with the hole cut out in each one. It was very detailed for a craft project. I got up in wonder and took it from him. Not really he handed it to me with pride. It even had triangle orange felt pieces to resemble cheese. I had it so close to my face spinning it from the safety pin attached to the top.  I was impressed by the detail. Who did this? He made it himself! This was a pencil pusher I was married to not a crayola expert. He said I must remind him to send a thank you note to the ladies at the craft store for helping him in his intentions. He said they were happy and giddy at the same time. I asked "Smokey, did you forget to unplug the gluegun?" I'm looking at the back and asked how he got the brown marks on the part the resembled the crust. The more I inspected , "Are these singe marks?" He snatched it from me. "Pin it on me," he was shining. I said in a nonchalant way, "Ok, blind fold me and turn around." He pulled me forward to him by the hand and took it to his heart and said right here. Really? He was dead serious. I did.  Now he is walking around with a slip of paper on his sleeve and a felt pizza on his heart. So now he tells me we were going to eat pizza from a box and watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail. He went to the bedroom first and came out without his suit jacket. When he came to sit down next to me I noticed his back had a five on it made from masking tape. I finally had to ask what is it with the fives. He said it was his birthday. I thought and actually told him Mr. Rogers just turned into a braggart. He laughed. It made me laugh. We ate and watched our movie sitting close like always. The candles were running low, the monies lying where they fell or burnt. All forgotten, but just the two of us. That night was he lit more candles, incense, oils...  The next morning I woke up alone. Where was the birthday boy? I forgot all about his presents in the car. I reach up to rub my eyes and on my finger was an Irish ring. Eighteen caret gold. Eight diamonds in the crown. The hands, heart, and crown each representing friendship, love, and loyalty. It was a size five, a perfect fit. I ran into the living room, he was there, I jumped into his lap and cried. With one swift move from behind his back came out a note card. How does he do that? I read it. I read: You are why I wake up, you are why I come home, Let's renew our Vows. Will you marry me again and again and again? I was literally shaking and crying with so much love and devotion. We were so busy having fun and playing and loving and living, we never made it to the church for what time we had left together. He won on his birthday for my party. Why did he have to leave? He wasn't old.