At my husband’s 40th birthday party, my four-year-old pointed at my best friend and said, “Dad’s there.”
I laughed at first.
Children say strange things all the time. They mix up words, invent meanings, turn shadows into monsters and clouds into dinosaurs. I thought Will was being silly.
Then I followed his finger.
And saw something on Ellie’s body that I was never supposed to find.
The party had seemed like a good idea when I planned it. A backyard celebration, close friends, family, food, music, kids running across the grass. Simple. Warm. Memorable.
In reality, it was chaos.
Someone needed more napkins. Someone wanted to know if the dip had dairy. A child was crying over a toy truck. Another one was trying to feed frosting to the dog.
And in the middle of it all stood Brad.
Forty looked unfairly good on him.
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