birthday cake

Rochester's Spring awoke in a hurry, up out of its sleepy bed of winter, as if it had slept through its alarm clock and was late for work. Late it is, but no one is holding a grudge. This town comes alive when the sun comes out, and the snow melts. Everyone takes their table and chairs out onto sidewalks. Doors get propped open. Frisbees get thrown. Women run with two or three dogs on leashes, while pushing their babies. There is movement again, people learn to walk their stiff frozen legs again after a long winter. Everything is new.

I just finished reading Through Painted Deserts by Don Miller. I've read it many times, it just sort of falls off my book shelve when it knows it is time. It is my leaving book, the story that reminds why I move. I have two weeks left in Rochester.

I am not for sure what is next, but I am moving in the direction of Ohio. My sister will be having a baby soon and my best friend is getting married. I want to be around for that.

So here I find myself again saying goodbyes, saying what I need to say to those people I've come to love here in NY, things that I can only say in leaving. Moving reminds that nothing stays the same. It defines what matters and what does not. It shows me what will last.

Yesterday was Larry's birthday. Larry is a regular at Starbucks, I mean he practically lives there. We call him Seville and he takes out the trash for us and we give him free coffee and cream cheese danishes and let him use our phone to his "land lady". He's there everyday, all day. Anyway, all his friends, that are regulars too, bought him a cake and a card and threw him a surprise party at our coffee shop.

He was the happiest guy. And he always is.

While eating a piece of Larry's birthday cake I was reminded that life is about being a "regular" and having some friends that give you a cake and a card for your birthday. That's all, that's all Seville told me he needed on his fifty something birthday. "All I need is friends, Matt. That's it. That's all, you know."