65

     I found a cool inlaid wooden box with twelve compartments at a thrift store and as my husband is soon to have a significant birthday, his 65th, I bought it. I thought with his eight siblings and three children and I, we will fill those little compartments with poems and pictures quite easily, and he will have a lovely box. Of course the pages and pages I received, once asked for, were more than the box could contain, neatly anyway. I tried various ways of getting these pieces of paper to fit in the box but short of shredding them, it just wouldn't work.
     It was difficult for me to give up on the idea of the box; it was pristine. My heart was set on it. What to do, what to do?  Do something else of course. A memory box must become a memory book instead. However I don't like it when things don't turn out the way I want them to, but isn't that the way life is? Does everything turn out the way you want it to? Stuff happens. Big or small, some things we roll with better than others. It's how we handle these upsets and diversions that keeps things interesting; going with the flow makes life easier and probably longer too. I will endeavour to let things go. Really.
     Anyway the old guy will get a gift one way or the another. He will be happy either way. And isn't that what matters after all? Happy birthday Paul!