The Birthday Race

She’s walked through the ages of life
twelve days behind me.
We were born in September,
I at the end of summer,
she at the beginning of fall.
And we’re as different
as those two seasons.

My cousin lived her youth
with the carefree dance
of the fall leaves—
bright and colorful,
joyfully moving
wherever the wind carried her.

Much of my youth
was filled with the heaviness
and seriousness
of a hot summer afternoon.
I envied her fun,
but judged her frivolous.
I thought life was a test,
and she was playing hooky.

Besides…
I didn’t know how to dance.

As the seasons of life
have gone round and round,
we’ve both learned to adapt
to the changing weather.

The heat of summer
slows the most active child.
And the coolness of fall
makes us all
want to play in the leaves.

So on this
the thirty-first time
I’ve won the birthday race,
I let her know
I’ve learned to dance
and look forward to sharing
a song or two
together.

To Karen, Born September 29, 1962
From Rick, Born September 17, 1962