A Birthday Offering

Birthday. Bikini. Brilliant sunshine. What more could a girl want?

LOTS actually. Another handbag? Hm. More killer heels? Check. Precious stones? Nah, not my bag. But another bag? Hmm. New dress maybe? Yeah if Cinderella actually has a ball to go to. Otherwise it'll be pumpkin soup for weeks - how else would you recycle an unused pumpkin that pulls up your drive?? - so don't even go there. I know, how about another pair of shoes. Double check.

Nah. At this age, do I care what dress I've got on? Only if it flatters and hides all that's gone south. The conspirator-fashionistas who compile frumpy clothes catalogues have come up with a perfect name for this style of dressing: Classic Range. Pshahh!

What's gonna be in my new bag anyway, but the same old things a girl always has in her handbag: iPhone, cheque book, Oyster card, lippy, black eyeliner, travel size SPF 30 sunblock stick, hairbrush, family size wet wipes, mini torch, breath mints - not counting the half melted After Eight from the restaurant the other night, travel tissues with aloe vera, emergency duck tape, two kinds of tape measure - soft AND metallic, two flavours of nut free energy bar, bag of peanuts, wire coat hanger (note to self: EXTREMELY useful), last season's Christmas stamps, USB stick with my last will and testament and my poetry collection, six ballpoint pens, mini Deet-free mosquito repellent spray, friend's family secret recipe chocolate brownie from last visit, three coin purses with pound sterling, Euros and HK dollars, half a tangerine, three quarters of a minibox of Kelloggs honey nuts cornflakes, cereal bowl and spoon. And a spanner. You know - your typical Desert Island essentials. So what if you're transferring these few things into next season's Louis Vuitton maxi clutch? It's the same stuff on the inside.

Nah. It's gotta be more. What I want, what I really really want?
More of you God. You're there I know, all the time, everywhere. Just let me SEE that more, really sense it and know it, deep within me but also in my outer, not quite so deep layers please - I don't want to have to excavate myself so hard to find that you're really at home within me.

I want you to be someone I don like a gossamer garment of light and grace each morning when I rise, so I'm covered by you all day long. I want to ingest your words, so you nourish me and sustain me for days on end. I want you to be the gallant and attentive gentleman by my side all day, opening doors for me and ushering me through with a beautiful smile and a firm press of your warm hand on the small of my back. I want you to walk on the outside of a curb when you walk with me, so I don't trip and fall off the path of your intentions.

I want to inhale your fragrance when I bury my nose deep within a blushing rose. I want spring zephyrs to twirl your fingers in my hair and make me spin in spirals with falling leaves. I want my eyes to sparkle with your laughter reflected in glistening emerald seawaves. I want to sing your favourite melodies, full throated, and dance the quick step, fox trot, tango and Viennese waltz all in one under the bright yellow sun of your smile upon me.

I want us to chat all day, about anything and everything, so we can laugh and cry together at all the things that Life throws at me, but also to hope and plan what tomorrow is going to be like. And when my eyes can no longer stay awake, I want to fall into your safe, strong arms and sleep, and dream about all the plans we've made that day.

Anything else? Yeah, I want more of me, to be more of me alive in you! No more living in the shadows or hiding in the back row. No more locking myself inside little prisons of fear and self doubt, past sorrows of regrets, unrequited love or lost dreams. Give me those keys that can unleash me into a life more richly experienced and earnestly lived, more treasured and indwelt moment by moment, so I take nothing and no one for granted, miss out on nothing - not a single instant, because each second is a gift from you. Let me inhabit fully the freedom and joy of being alive that your Son has bought me as birthday presents every day of every year since I was born.

Now that, would be a great birthday present. And another bag? Ah why not. I'll take the Louis Vuitton in passion pink. Check.