Happy Birthday, Kelly
Dear Kelly,
Happy Birthday, Dove! You were always the best at celebrating birthdays, yours and others.
Today, as I was enjoying some quiet morning yoga and meditation in an empty house, the sun peaked out and shined right on my face. Like right on it! It felt like a massive gift and got me thinking about you and the birthdays and get-a-ways and celebrations we've shared the last 10 years.
Remember this platter you made for Jess, Niki, and I two years ago at the Octopus Hole house?
I could stare at that perfectly sliced fruit for hours, conjuring up images of your hands holding a knife, cutting for days. This was your quintessential meal in summer or spring. In winter or fall, always a hot bowl of nourishing soup or stew with your homemade sourdough bread.
You fed us so well.
I feel quiet today. My thoughts wander to your mom...how this day 38 years ago, she pushed you into this world. What did baby Kelly's cry sound like? Were you scrawny or chubby? Did you eat right away or take your time learning to suckle? (I see you smirking. I know, I hate that word too...suckle. Which reminds me of a recipe of yours I read recently where you said "frothy" and then "god, I hate that word." You always left little notes like that. I'd ask for a recipe and it would be laced with goofy comments throughout...thank you for leaving breadcrumbs of yourself all over my life.)
We went out this weekend for your birthday...it was strange. You were so present it was distracting. We ordered all the things and tried each other's food like always. When we let Brad choose the bottle of wine (because as you know, Joel choosing bottles of wine could put us all in debt, so we let Brad choose since it was your bday and you'd be the one choosing), the server brought three glasses. After the first pour, Brad asked her to bring one more glass. He poured out a taste for you, and just like that, all eyes were red and wet. "Here's to you, babe," he said.
The first time we went out for your birthday was to Salty's. Brad had won a gift card for the crab brunch and so we went there on a Saturday, you in your flower DVF maxi, and ate a shit-ton of seafood. That's what you always want for your bday, some seafood meal with oysters, please. The last time we went out for your birthday meal, we were at Copine - ogling each other's plates, ordering too much, chatting about home-ownership.
On your actual birthday, you would have gotten out of bed at some ungodly hour to see the sunrise, over a mountain or at the beach. I just spent time lingering over this post you wrote on your 34th birthday. You would have made a day of it, and I feel sad that I can't do that today, that I didn't plan for it.
But then I ask myself, what would you have done? And I answer that I could have gotten up at sunrise, taken myself out to breakfast, taken the day off work to meditate and embrace grief, flew to Costa Rica like we always said we would, write this damn book, establish a foundation in your name...you know, all in a day's work. I jest, but that's the truth. All of the rituals and trips and doings in the world will not be enough to express what you meant to me, never enough to feel like yes! I've finally honored Kelly.
Even today, I want to write something epic, something profound. A wisdom bomb, you would say. But I don't have anything. I am surviving off of breadcrumbs and it's taking all my willpower to not post every single bday picture and tell every single bday memory right now...but something hungry inside of me halts. I will need that nourishment. There's a lot more birthdays without you we'll need to get through.
So I will honor you in the small ways. A hot cup of chamomile from a mug I bought thinking of you. Hugging my legs to my chest in the galaxy leggings you wore. Maybe meticulously cut up some fruit and veg for lunch. Meandering through your blog and Instagram posts.
And write you a letter.
Always your friend and partner in birthday bashes,
crm
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