Birthdays

It is birthday season here in the IudiJoss household. Tim's birthday came on a cold but lovely Sunday a few weeks ago. We celebrated Corin's this past Thursday, and mine, following Corin's like ducks in a row, was on Friday. Poor Seth, my January baby. "Birthdays are not fair," he tells me, pouting. I tried to assure him that birthdays are in fact the fairest thing the world ever doles: one per person, no exceptions. But I take his point, it's a bit hard to be the outlier when you are four. Last year when Corin was reciting the cycle of our birthdays, he said, "First is Seth, then dad, then me, and then you, Mom. You have the rotten egg of birthdays." I don't think he's yet learned the phrase last but not least. As it happens, I've always been quite fond of my birthday: it comes in the best month of the year and falls on a prime number to boot. Corin's, quite fittingly since he gravitates toward order, falls on two perfect squares: 9/16.

For Tim's birthday we spent the day in Arlee. We visited our old neighbors; went for a run along our old route, the boys biking along; and finished with a picnic on my parents' land. The first snow was falling on the Missions and from time to time the clouds would part, allowing us fleeting glimpses of the fresh dusting they had just dealt Gray Wolf Peak. Running our old route was like meeting up with a favorite friend - the view of the mountains here, the flame willows over there, the goldenrod and rose hips clumped together roadside, the hay bales, like small cottages, in Doney's field. I couldn't stop smiling, and still I find it pleases me all these days later. We have a wistfulness about the Jocko Valley, I hope will never leave us. Those were such treasured, deeply-felt years: the first of our marriage, the first of our Montana, the first of our parenting.

In Arlee

Tim's birthday picnic

Corin turned seven, wearing a birthday crown all day. Among other excellent presents (a Star Wars book, some story cds, a butterfly house to name a few) he received a pocket knife for the adventure necklace he's been making. A knife seemed like a good addition since there is conceivably only a small range of adventure a person could get into with just a yellow lanyard, a pen, and a compass. A swiss army tool broadens the possibilities. And though it is the teensiest blade that swiss army manufactures, Seth, borrowing it from his brother, managed to cut himself in thirty seconds flat. We hadn't even known the knife had seen first blood, when Seth was dancing before us, waving a finger with a Yoda band-aid, and saying, "But it's ok." Needless to say, we seized the tailor-made opportunity to discuss (and make up on the spot) The Rules regarding the use of the new adventure necklace addition.

Dressed for TaeKwanDo and taking a birthday call in his office

My birthday, a blustery day, included a quiet morning of work on a short story, birthday messages from friends far and near, and a lunch out with my husband. We watched walkers pull their coats close against the unseasonal bite in the wind as we drank miso and dipped sushi in soy and wasabi. Not a bad way to pass a birthday, even the rotten egg of birthdays, I guess.

It has been a gift giving season around here, and so I pass on a gift that came to me: evening light in the neighbor's Russian elm, a slate sky above the ridge.