I woke up at the sound of the door creaking open. Through my blurred vision I could make out a dark figure pushing the door open with something dimly lit on his hands.
The dark figure started singing Happy Birthday. My heart skipped a beat; I pushed the blanket away and felt for my glasses nearby. Instantly the boyfriend materialized before me, the warm glow from the candle on top of the cake he was holding reflecting on his smiling face.
I blew the candle feeling more blessed than I've ever been.
Room lit up with scented candles, purple bouquet of tulips, ipod nanos, lovely dinner...
I've been cracking my head on how to blog bout my birthday without sounding like a gushing lovesick stereotype, but the thing is? I'm floored. Simply, and disgustingly contented.
Heh.
