XO-LP // Laura Palmer

A Love Letter History.


Dear 27,
May 23, 2006 I turned 23 on the 23rd. I love birthdays and golden birthdays are an absolute cause for celebration.

(I'm not ashamed to admit my love for my day of birth. How many days a year are there were you can sing songs about "crying if you want to" or wear your "birthday suit" or throw a completely selfish party and have no one judge you out loud? On the 23rd birthday on the 23rd of May I urged birthday celebrators to wear gold. Ends up I was the only one who decided that was a good idea. And we went to Miss Kittys. That, unlike my obsession with birthdays and candles and birthday cakes and crowns and balloons, is embarrassing.)

The gift of an African Violet to the girl with the least green thumb (that's me) was given...and 4 years later it's still living. Granted it hasn't bloomed in nearly 2 full years, it's almost died about 34 times, it's fuzzy little leaves have fallen off in a yellowy brown mess, but this week, out of no where, a bud.
And now. A full blown bloom.

(I've taken a macbook snapshot of this bitty plant everyday since spotting the small plum pod that I'd hoped would flower. I'm now that girl.)

Because I'm a nerd, I believe in weird signs and good things and that "it'll be ok." So that little purple flower sparks a grin every time I see it while not washing dishes or not cleaning the counters. I'm considering it an omen. A good type omen. One that brings good tidings. Or something like that.

And cheechako. That was today's word of the day. Look it up. And say it out loud a few times. (I bet Sarah Palin says it. While hunting moose.)