Eighteen Candles and One Canal

One walk today.

Sun flaring over the canal like it knew we had birthdays to celebrate. Trees still bare, water restless, snowdrops already pushing through like impatient overachievers. Spring is clearly warming up backstage.

I kept it simple. One solid round. Gravel, wind, puddle reflections, the usual therapy session with better lighting.

Then we swapped sneakers for a restaurant table. My girl turned 18. Eighteen. Proud, slightly stunned, trying not to blink too long.

Candles were blown out. Hers first. Mine too, because aging in this house is apparently a team sport.

The funny part, our birthdays always sit right on the edge of spring. We get older, the country thaws, the sun starts flexing again.

Tomorrow I’ll be back on the canal, pretending birthday dinner was part of the training plan.

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