a personal gift

Finally, today is my birthday.

Valerie and Abbey, my mom, Adam, Jason and Amanda are having brunch at Fred’s (in Barney’s).  Unfortunately, I can’t join them because I don’t want to lose a Sunday of open houses.  So instead of having a leisurely meal with people I love, I am running around my neighborhood looking at co-ops and condos.

I see eight in two hours.  The last one, the most beautiful, is a one bedroom on East End. I introduce myself to the broker, and he does the same.  I recognize the name.  Joshua is one of my Facebook friends whom I’ve never met.  We connected about a year ago when I answered his ad for a freelance writer.  And though the job never materialized, we did become virtual friends.  Today I meet him.

I love Facebook on my birthday.  It surprises and warms me to hear from so many people— some in my life only briefly, some I haven’t seen in over 30 years, some I once worked with, some I knew from childhood, some I’ve lost touch with, some from Alexander’s high school, some I once dated, some who are siblings of my good friends, some I met through Weight Watchers, some of my sister's good friends, some of my mother's good friends, some I know well, and a few I’ve never met.  I even receive happy birthday wishes  from my dentist and Mac Forum, although these are hardly meaningful.

I get phone calls from my closest friends and family.  Even Bob, an old boyfriend from college calls, and David, a more recent ex, writes.  I get great gifts from my two sisters, and my mom.  Alexander sends me a short screenplay where the protagonist is named Lyn (he assures me the name is just a random choice).  It is his birthday gift to me.

In short, the story he writes is hilarious, is called The Phone Call, and begins like this:

The story later spins out of control and evolves into my: getting kidnapped, being held in the trunk of a car, nearly getting killed by the cab driver and a cable company employee, and ultimately being rescued by my son (described as muscular).  

I love this gift.  Unique. Personal. And funny.  And hardly me. I'd never ignore a sign that read, Death To Those Who Cross Me.  At least I don't think I would.