birthday's end

In the quiet, in-between moments today, Gabriel would look up at me with big eyes and ask hopefully, is it still my birthday? Since he was at day care for most of the day, busy celebrating and playing with friends, there weren't many opportunities to be still enough to wonder if the birthday might have tiptoed out the back door when he wasn't looking. But during pizza-making, and while looking for the right bedtime story, and watching the bath water drain out, he had to ask, just to be sure. Is it still my birthday?

The last time he asked was en route to his bed, after saying goodnight to his sister and his papa. I was carrying him in his pajamas towards his darkened room, where the humidifier was already humming in wait. Yes, it is, I told him. Then a little light went off in his clean, wet head.

But you can't go to bed on your birthday!! 

As if it were the craziest idea he ever heard. Going to sleep on your birthday? Come on!

Gabriel went along as I proceeded with the bedtime routine, still skeptical and a little sad, but worn out enough not to protest further. But then during the part when I stoop over him for the final sprinkle dusty and kiss, he whispered into my face: do happy birthday goodnights, Mama. Do them like this: happy birthday ... happy birthday ... happy birthday. I could feel him smiling in the dark, so pleased was he with this simple yet  brilliant idea.

Usually I say goodnight three times at his door, just before leaving the room. Sometimes I say squeak squeak squeak, if we are being a baby dormouse and his mother. Tonight I stood there and whispered happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday, and for some reason it felt so silly that we laughed through every one. Despite (or maybe because of) the solemnity of bedtime, we just couldn't help ourselves.

Then I regained my composure and said, I love you big three year old boy.

And he whispered, I love you too, Mama.

Then I shut the door, and the birthday was over.

Today I had coffee with someone who told me how her very close friend's husband is dying. I have heard about a number of deaths lately that are one or two steps removed from me - friends of friends, or parents of friends of friends. What to do in the face of such tragedy and loss? It is ridiculous to go to bed on your birthday, and it's ridiculous that people have to die. Completely bewildering.

Gabriel's response to the absurdity of endings is a comfort to me. He accepted bedtime, but not without sadness, and not without making some creative adjustments. He asked for my help and cooperation, maintained his fine sense of humor, and said I love you. May I have the grace and wisdom to do the same.