He was beside me while I was transferring my stuff into my new planner. I told him 2013 will be a fantastic year—not just for me but also for him, for the boys in the band, and for both of us. It will be a year of change, a year of love, a year of hope.
One of the things I was transferring to my new planner—the Starbucks planner we painstakingly ‘stickered’ up for—were birthdays.
“Does that look like a gift to you?”
I showed him my “drawing” of the icon. He watched me as I drew it again, and then I could see the makings of a mischievous smile on his face.
“Uhh… yeah,” he allowed, and I pouted. “I don’t draw as well as you do, you know,” I said, and he placed his arm over my shoulder, pulling me close, planting a kiss on my forehead.
“It does if you tell me that it is.”
I nudged him, in the ribs, hard, and he laughed, shaking his head. I turned away from him, pouring over my planner, as he drew what felt like gifts on my back, his finger strokes tickling.