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The blessing in my life that is HJ Jr began when he was almost 10 years old and his mother and I started our romantic relationship and, eventually, married. In the months that The Cinnamon Girl and I dated, I got to spend a lot of time with the young man who would become my bonus son. I got to know him, he got to know me and we forged the beginning pieces of what would become the puzzle of the relationship that continues to this day, this day when he turns 26 years old.
I can relate many stories and anecdotes, many tales, some taller than other, about our time together, about the almost unbelievable things that have happened, about our lives growing intertwined roots. There is, perhaps, no other story than the one I am about to share that is more emblematic of us.
Seemingly minutes before The Cinnamon Girl and I got married (it was actually a few weeks), the whole family was invited to a birthday party for one of my sisters. The Cinnamon Girl was going to meet HJ Jr and me there as were my own children from my first marriage. HJ Jr and I were going to drive across town and make our arrival at the same time.
We had one task. We had to pick up a chocolate cake for the party.
It was a rainy day in June, uncharacteristically stormy for Colorado, and as we went in and out of the store, we got soaked. We got the kind of drenched to your bones wet that fogs the windows of the car. We turned back into traffic out of the parking lot and the skies continued to pour Noah-like as we hydro-planed to my sister’s house.
HJ Jr was in the back seat of the car. He was only 10 years old, after all. Safety first.
“I bet I can remember every piece of chocolate cake I have ever had,” he said.
“Oh yeah?” I said, engaging on what I assumed was a passing thought.
For the rest of the drive, HJ Jr relayed to me the taste, texture and circumstances of every single slice of chocolate cake he could ever remember having. Ever. In. His. Life.
I remember the ride taking approximately 92 hours.
I remember fighting the rain and trying to focus on the road.
I remember thinking, when is this kid going to stop talking about chocolate cake?
Now, on his 26th birthday, I treasure the moment, the memory and my bonus son.
That ride was so very him. And so very us.
There is an us. Step father and step son. Bonus father and bonus son.
Happy birthday!
I love you.
And chocolate cake (though a little less than I did before that fateful trip…)
And There Came a Day... 