Happy Birthday?

Colleen’s birthday is this week.

I wish that it wasn’t on my radar but it is. It’s on Lucy’s radar, too. I mentioned it to Lucy at dinner on Friday and she sort of shrugged. Like what can you do?

I can ignore it.

I can send her a text message. (That’s what I got on my birthday.)

I can wish her happy birthday via The Facebook.

I can call her.

I can mail a card.

I can suggest we meet for brunch.

I can send flowers.

That part of me that exists that I don’t really want to admit exists – the part of me so good at holding grudges and feeling slighted – that part of me wants to ignore Colleen and her birthday entirely. Or maybe send her a text message since that’s all she could manage on my birthday.

And the part of me that’s the bigger person – and maybe a little bit of a glutton for punishment – wants to acknowledge it. It’s her 30th birthday. You only turn 30 once.

On my way home from Lucy’s house on Friday night, I emailed Colleen’s mom for her address. If I heard back from her mom, I would send a card. And if I didn’t hear back from her, I wouldn’t sweat it.

I got the address. And I forwarded it to Lucy who responded to my proclamation that I would be sending a card because I am a sucker with the following: “We are both suckers. It's kind of endearing. Some might say it's one of our best qualities!”

After work, I went to Target and at Target I found The Most Appropriate Birthday Card Ever.

Who knew that they made birthday cards to send to former friends?!



Ultimately, I chose another card that was pink, cupcakes, generic – a card you could give to a coworker or your hair stylist – instead of a card that was so blatantly true.

And I’ll call Colleen on her birthday. Praying that I get her voicemail. Because, other than happy birthday, I don’t really have a whole lot to say.