for matt, on your 29th birthday

Dear Matt,

You're 29 today, buddy. I can't believe that. If I was there I would sit with you this morning and listen to your oldies. And I would sing along with you, but I wouldn't know the words as well as you. And I would take you to lunch at McDonalds so you could get 2 hamburgers, fries and a diet coke. I would watch you sitting on the floor of your room in the afternoon with your legs crossed in a hyper-extended indian style. I would take you to the movies this evening and I would buy you popcorn and soda, and then half-way through I would surprise you with a Hershey's chocolate bar, and you would probably smile at me. I would listen to you whisper movie facts at me while it plays, and we would stay until all the credits had rolled so you could read all the names. And then we would talk about what happened the whole drive home. And I would give you a chocolate birthday cake with 29 candles on it and watch as you roll your eyes when dad says you smell like a monkey at the end of the song. I would give you a big hug, Matt if I were there, and say happy birthday, and then watch you drift to sleep like the angel you are. Happy, content. You live for your birthday, we all do. I wish I was there.

Love,

Your Little Sis.