Twenty-eight

I kept waking up from a heavy sleep, momentarily confused when my stomach hurt upon opening my eyes. Then I remembered that I couldn't find Sprout before I went to bed. Without evidence that he was safely inside (he can go outside until I go to bed, at least until the Infra-red dog door arrives this weekend), I couldn't risk locking him out. I kept telling myself he was certainly fine - just wandering around or hunting more ick - and slept without him curled on the corner of my bed.

When I looked at the clock for the third time, it was nearing 2:00. As I pulled the covers under my chin and tried to relax, I realized he was in trouble if he hadn't made his way back inside. It's cold out and he's but a tiny cat. So I got up, disturbing a sleepy Chienne in the process, and roamed the house silently, looking for a stripey feline.

In what felt like a strange dream, I opened the back door and flipped on the patio light, shivering in the cold as I peered around the fenced area. I didn't see him and despaired that he'd gotten lost on an adventure and grew too cold trying to find his way home. Entering the house again, I methodically made my way through the house, checking the back of the armchair, under the bed in his room, the guest bathtub where he sometimes plays.

"Oh, Sprout." I said forlornly as I stood in my bedroom, looking at the spot where he typically spends the night. Then I turned to see him emerge - heavy-lidded and sleepy - from the master bathroom. He allowed me to hold him, purring comfortingly as I stroked his fur. He was warm and safe and jealousy finally drove the dog from beneath the covers as she watched her kitten friend get copious amounts of cuddles.

I think I have a strong tendency to worry. And I rather enjoy the rush of relief I feel when things are OK. So instead of saying I started my birthday feeling scared my kitten had frozen to death, let's start the day when I was caught in that delicious place between sleep and wakefulness, the dog warming my feet and the cat purring near my ear. Because that was lovely. And instead of rather dreading this day as I've been doing, let's just hope it's a happy one.

So far, Mom, Brother and Pastor have offered their birthday wishes and I found myself cooing over them and knowing people care that I'm officially 28 (though I think I was born around noon. Cord wrapped around my tiny neck, Mom wanted a C section anyway, went straight from the doctor to the hospital, perfect baby arrives, blah blah blah). In addition, I have received bloggy emails that I enjoyed tremendously. So given that I don't tend toward announcing "It's my birthday!" so people can be happy for me, I think I'm giving it a shot this year. If it's not too much trouble, someone can wish me success at work (first author publications, experiments that go smoothly, collaborators who play nicely), time with friends and family, appreciation for moments that go right and the ability to release and ignore times that go wrong, or the ability to pray effectively. If that doesn't work, there's always the hope that I find someone to love who loves me in return (and all the fun stuff that goes along with that), health (both physical and mental), lots of laughter, interesting blog posts that are entertaining to write, good site stats...

If it was your birthday, I'd wish all of the above for you. :)