Birthday Eve ramblings

I begin this post 45 minutes before my 40th birthday. I am also typing on my phone as I lay in the guest bedroom of my brothers house in New Hampshire with my little cuddle bug lightly snoring next to me. This is not how I usually write so I am not sure how this will affect my writing process.

This evening on my birthday eve, I had an amazing dinner with my parents, my daughter, and my brother at Hawaiian Isle in Plaistow, NH.

Scorpion Bowl
The quintessential Boston Chinese Pupu Platter
Pineapple and fortune cookies
…in bed.

After dinner, my brother treated us for ice cream at Moo’s in Salem, NH.

Tomorrow I head off on an adventure with some of my besties and my daughter will spend the weekend with her grandparents.

As I write this, I have two major thoughts.

The first is that I am so happy to be done with my thirties. It had been the happiest and the most tragic decade of my life.

I started my 30s one month into my relationship with Bryon. We fell in love. I moved to New York. We adopted a cat. We got engaged and married and had a baby.

3.5 residences.

5 jobs through 3 employers

5 cruises.

5 countries. 8 if you count overseas territories….

20 States.

3 Canadian provinces.

4 cars (Mean Green, the Silver Bullet, the Bronze Bomber…and the Subaru).

I could go on but while this decade had a lot of happiness, but it still ended tragically.

Life was good and then Bryon died and I spent the last two years in deep, profound grief.

I am so ready for a new decade. I am ready for the next chapter of my story.

The second thought is that I can no longerf dread getting older. Afterf seeing Bryon die so young, I truly know each year is a gift.

Bryon will never be middle aged. If you are middle aged, you are lucky.

Bryon always joked that he was an old man in a young man’s body. He looked forward to being an old masn and he never will be.

One time when my daughter was an infant, the three of us went to have dinner at a local diner. We were seated near two grumpy old men. Bryon was amused by them and said that was going to be him and his best friend when they got old.

But know only one of them will become an old man. *knock on wood* because I am superstitious AF.

So I go into my 40th year embracing my age. My wisdom. My scars. My blessings.

But just not my gray hairs.

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“I told you so” – A Bryon McKim birthday story

August 25ish, 2011

I was watching news coverage on Hurricane Irene which was heading directly to New York City.

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For the first 31 years of my life (minus three months in Indiana), I have lived within 20 miles of the ocean, with 15 of those years living in a Coastal Maine town.

If there is one thing I have learned, it is that you don’t underestimate an ocean storm.

Seriously, we have all seen The Perfect Storm, right?

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I went to Wal-Mart and stocked up some supplies.  Items such as candles and batteries and non-perishable food.

I came home and Bryon mocked me.

Our conversation went something like this.

Kerry: Hey, we should make sure our floor in the basement is clear in case the basement floods.

Bryon:  Um…we live 200 miles inland.

Kerry:  And this storm is 400 miles wide and heading straight for New York City.

Bryon: This isn’t the Maine Coast.  You are worrying about nothing.

Worrying about nothing was a common grievance Bryon had about my personality.  It’s ironic that I wouldn’t learn to worry less until he died.

Bryon and I both liked being right and we were both stubborn.  I dropped this issue because I knew I wasn’t going to convince Bryon.  But I didn’t forget…

Sunday Morning, 
August 28, 2011
Bryon’s Birthday

Our basement is flooding.  We were unprepared for that.

As we are wet-vaccing our basement floor, I decided at that point that it would be a good time to point out to Bryon that I was right.

Bryon did not appreciate being told that he was wrong.

An argument ensues.

I get pissed and decide since Bryon knew all the answers, he can deal with the flooding basement.

I storm upstairs and sit angrily on the couch.

A period of time passes.  It felt long but it was probably 5 or 10 minutes, Bryon comes upstairs and says that being pissed at each wasn’t going to help the situation.

I knew at that point he was right so I head back down to the basement.

We continue to wet vac until we notice that the water was seeping in through microscopic cracks in the cement.  So Bryon took my Jeep Compass to Lowe’s…in the middle of a hurricane to buy some hydraulic cement.  Luckily we patch up enough of the cracks and the flooding is controlled.  (Though it took a month and a strongly worded letter for our rental company to address the issue).

We were lucky.  Hurricane Irene caused so much damage in Upstate New York but Albany was pretty much spared.

The storm let up in the afternoon and we met our friends at Mahar’s.  The woman who would become our future daughters Godmother posted this picture of Bryon on Facebook.  She was going to call him Hurricane Clifford.  (Clifford was Bryon’s middle name and it was a hit among his friends).  Bryon requested she call him Tropical Depression Clifford.

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Bryon and I would later laugh about this day.  I just look back and I see what two stubborn people we were.

Luckily we forgave each other.  We got engaged at Mahar’s a week and a half later.

Though…I was right.

Happy Birthday in Heaven, Handsome.