31.1.18 Evening quiet
It was a day of birthdays today, as every day is when you think about it. We just don't notice many of them.
I watched a woman with a careful bob and focused steps cross the car park, a posy of daffodils in a milk bottle held out steadily before her. A late, accidental bridesmaid, she carried her offering to an even later bride who stood waiting, hunched over a thick stick, her jaw quivering under a small smile. She didn't take the flowers or reply to the singsong wishes, merely smiled a little wider and bobbed at them like a maid before turning slowly to walk further into the centre. The posy-bearer was left to follow haltingly behind her in gentle procession and I watched them go, the birthday girl and her acolyte, trying to hide my own smile. Her birthday must be eight decades deep today, at least, and it was like every birthday candle ever set alight in her name had remained lit inside her because as she passed me, light poured out of her, her tiny eyes aglow.
She was birthday through and through, that one. I hope I get to collect all mine in me like that. I hope it was a good one.