Last year my birthday fell on a Friday. I remember the day very well. It was hot, and my skin was brown from a summer under the Colorado sun. I took the kid's to my sister's community pool. It's a beautiful pool. There is a perfect wading area for the little ones, a twisty slide that Zack and I adored, and fountains to splash in. I spent much of the summer there with my one year old (Evan was still a baby), Zack, my very pregnant sister and my nephew Finn. We would head there on my days off, and picnic on lawn chairs. That Friday of my birthday, I received a phone call while standing in my sister's living room. A phone call that colored my day and ultimately completely changed my life.
"I got the job." he told me.
"Damn." I responded, "You just ruined my birthday."
I told my sister as soon as I got off the phone. She looked concern. "Don't worry." I told her, "There is no way we are going." But I had a feeling. The next 72 hours we agonized over the decision.
That Saturday I celebrated my birthday with a big group of girls at my favorite bar in LoDo. I sat there looking at my friends, and telling them that we were probably moving. It was a bittersweet party. I was thrilled that so many of my girlfriends came out to celebrate with me, but I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that my next birthday would look very different.
And it does. Here we are one year later. There has been no hot summer, no tanned skin, no outings to the pool with my sister. Evan is no longer a baby, and Zack can read. We have a whole new life in a whole new city. New jobs. New routines. It is exciting and fun, but still I look back at a year ago with a longing for what was. I miss having a million friends who want to party with me. I miss my sister. I miss the hot.
I miss home.