I remember your birthday each year by process of elimination.
Happy 27th. I hope your sideburns haven’t turned completely grey in your old age and that your good sense sometimes outweighs your stubbornness. I hope you drink enough but not too much and that you eventually realize that wine has its merits. I hope you smoke an occasional cigar but never cigarettes.
I hope you’ve learned the joy of driving Fords and that a new dog will someday find you, although he will never replace the old.
I hope you still listen to Fogerty and love to dance and that you’ve gotten over your fear of sheets but not your love of pillows. I hope when you see a rerun of the Cosby Show, you remember.
I hope that life brings you all you deserve and that the people you keep close always realize just how special you are. Most of all, I hope you know that some small part of the credit for the amazing woman I am is due to you.