The other day, my dad called to see if I’d be okay with money for my birthday. We all know the answer to that question is yes, so we quickly moved on. And then he told me a story I had never heard before, and it was one of the sweetest things he has ever said (or implied).
He told me, that growing up, his lucky number was 22. Its what he bet on for carnival games, the number he pretended to have on his jersey when playing stick ball in the street, you know, basic lucky number stuff. And then *I* was born on the 22nd. How lucky is that?! I was touched that he recognized the kismet in me being born on his lucky number. But I was also surprised that he had never shared that story before… guess he was saving that one up for something special.
One day away! So far, I’ve gotten a lovely necklace and pair of earrings from my Rachel, and a fabulous set of purple mixing bowls from Christine. Whoever says they dont like presents is lieing!
21st Feb 2007 | 10:07 am
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