His thirty-eighth

Today was a very ordinary day as far as days go. He got up. He went to work. Maybe a little extraordinary in that his wife actually got up with him and made his breakfast.

Early. Not sleeping in like she usually does.

Because she loves him. And he's worth it.

He went to work and returned calls. He worked on documents. His co-workers got him a cake and sang to him in the middle of the day. He undoubtedly shrugged and blushed, embarrassed.

He came home early, refusing to let his wife man the grill. After all, the man really should cook the meat. She made fresh guacamole and got the good chips to go with it. She cooked fresh corn on the cob and cut up lots of fruit.

She made him a cake with help from his kids.

It definitely looked homemade. But it tasted delicious.

He laughed at it, then enjoyed a large slice with a smile on his face. His kids beamed with pride before diving into their own slices.

He got his mother on speaker phone, so she could continue the tradition she started years ago: The telling of the birth story. His kids laughed, incredulous at life in the old days. She told the story with the enthusiasm and vigor that makes all of her stories so fun to hear. Even his father chimed in to add his part. His kids stared at him in wonder - amazed that he ever was anything other than the man before them.

His wife cleaned up the dishes, and he helped her - in spite of her insistence otherwise. He hugged her and thanked her for a fantastic day.

She hugged him right back and thanked him for a fantastic life.

He had a good day.

He is loved.