We don't yet have a lot of traditions established in Maine, but one we look forward to every August is a birthday dinner of mouth-watering, unvarying delight. Daddy cooks steaks on the grill, there's perfect corn and tomatoes from Fresh Off the Farm, and of course Mama makes a huge bowl of mashed potatoes. Dessert must be chocolate cake with cream cheese frosting. This has been true for some fifteen years now.
Today is actually the day, but scheduling difficulties have postponed the dinner for a week. No matter: this gives me a chance to drool in anticipation, and remember the corn of years past, not to mention all the explorations in the tide pools, and the games of Trump and Six Cubes, and the treats of junk food, and dinners at the Cod End, and the arts and crafts and drawing on the computer, and most of all, sitting around the table at dinner in the heart-rending silliness of family. It's not possible our baby is nineteen.
Happy birthday, Emma love.
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