Tuesday, September 04, 2007


The clock has passed midnight, and it is now officially my favorite day of the year, Julie's birthday. This is a day to celebrate all things Julie, but I want to back up the story to 1985, some 14 years before we met.

That year, I went to a Mormon youth retreat held in Ithaca, New York. At these events, you get to attend workshops that resemble college classes, and mingle with Mormon kids from across the northeast (there weren't many of us back then). One of the required classes was a "morality" session. I tended to roll my eyes at these classes because they were designed to keep kids from having sex and were pretty repetitive. Basically, it was "just say no." This was not a problem for me, as puberty was very unkind to me and there wasn't exactly a long line of women waiting to deflower me.

My point is that I tended to zone out for these things. But the instructor stood in front of the room and blew my mind.

"Who's the youngest person in the room? You? You're 16, right? So let's assume that the person you will one day marry is within 16 years of your age. That means your future has been born. She's a living, breathing, human being who walks the face of the earth today. And a major goal of the next decade of your life will be to figure out who that person is."

My first reaction was to feel guilty (a common Mormon response). I felt like I should have done something to commemorate the birth of "Pretend Mrs. Workman." Perhaps I should have sent a card.

But after the guilt wore off (12years), I was left with this fascination with this mythical woman whom I didn't know but was supposed to spend the rest of my life with. I found myself wondering where she lived, what she was doing, and if she ever thought about me. As it turns out, in 1985 she was living near Las Vegas, picking up academic awards like they were going out of style, and probably not thinking about me.

Our paths crossed many years later, and I detailed the story in last year's birthday post. But when I actually met the Mythical Mrs. Workman, she was actually cooler/smarter/more beautiful than I had imagined her. By that point in my life, I had earned a reputation for having an elaborate sense of imagination, but there's no way I could have dreamed up anyone quite as wonderful as Julie.

And now that we're celebrating her birthday for the 8th time together (I missed her birthday in 1999 when I went to Burning Man, but we had just barely met) Julie continues to be the woman of my dreams... but better.

This past year I've been taken by what an outstanding mother she is. Sometimes I'll just sit in the living room and watch Nate and Will watch Julie with adoring eyes. It comforts me to see my two little guys understand something very important: their mom is incredible.

So we'll try to celebrate that incredible-ness (is that a word?) today. But no volume of cake or presents or singing will ever be able to meaningfully convey just how much you mean to me.

Happy birthday, Julie. I love you.



At 4:38 am, Blogger Birchsprite said...

Happy Birthday indeed!


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