I forgot to mention one of the loveliest things that happened on my birthday. When B and I were sitting under the outdoor heaters at this bar in central Edinburgh on Friday evening, B went off to get another round and I did what I normally do when he disappears off: I checked my phone. And there it was, an e-mail from his oldest son that made me grin so broadly that anyone observing me at that moment must have thought I’d just received confirmation of a massive lottery win. Or a publishing deal for a further four books.
The gorgeous darling wished me a happy birthday and sealed the message with a couple of kisses. Those “xx” at the end made my already soaring heart soar higher.
I immediately replied, saying thank you and truthfully told him how his message meant a lot to me. It truly did. I couldn’t stop smiling. My presence can’t be easy for him to bear, given how I’m sure any child of a divorce (whether still a child or like, in this case, an adult) would in all likelihood have preferred to see their parents live happily ever after. Like when he gave me a hug for the first time just before Christmas was one of the best Christmas presents ever, his little message now was one of the best birthday presents ever.