is all the missed holidays.
You have no choice but to celebrate them on a different day. Which is fine, but it significantly decreases the excitement, in my mind. So far we have had to do that with Christmas and Mothers' Day, which isn't terrible considering Andrew has been flying for 8 months now.
But now we include on the list Andrew's birthday. He is turning 27 today. Or perhaps he already did, since he is several hours ahead of me in some foreign time zone. But in America, the county in which he was born, his birthday is today. And I'm okay with celebrating every other holiday on a different day - except a birthday. Because it's THE DAY HE WAS BORN. He wasn't born next Monday. He was born TODAY, 27 years ago. And birthdays are meant to be celebrated on the exact and specific day of birth.
It bothers me thinking that nobody will celebrate him today. He probably won't even mention to his crew that it's his special day, and they will all go about their business. He won't get a special breakfast or get to eat his favorite dinner on the special red plate. He won't get sung to or get a cake and candles. He won't get any presents or phone calls from family - because he is nowhere near a phone. Birthdays are a big deal to me, and it's a big deal that he's gone for it.
So honey, wherever you are in this world, happy birthday. We will celebrate you today, even if you won't know it. And we'll do it again when you get home - cake and presents and all. We love you. Happy 27 years - I'm glad I get to spend the next million with you.