Growing up, I was often compared to my aunt. I don't know that it was meant to be compliment, being flung at me in an exasperated voice around a spray of spittle as it was, but I took it as such. What?—with her being one of the most generous, most unprejudiced people that I know, how could it be anything but?

I learned from her example. She is my mother's younger sister, and so bore the burden of babysitting quite often. Though she talks about those days with a grimace, and reminds me nearly daily that she dropped me on my head and that my eyes used to be bugged out and freaky, I know that she enjoyed being a part of our young lives.

Brenda encouraged me to be my own person in a time when I needed it most. She has always been a cheerleader on the sidelines of free will. To this day, I seek her counsel when I am feeling particularly troubled with something I am feeling. She pats my hand with understanding and says, "Your twenties will be very frustrating, but it will start to get easier in your thirties" or "It's strange, I don't remember ever giving birth....."

Now, it is her birthday, and I wonder if she really knows how much she means to me. Our conversations flow freely with cynicism, jokes, and laughter...but love is the undertow, all too easy to miss. Thank you Brenda, for who you have helped me to become, for the way you treat my husband, for all that you are, and for all that you do. Happy Birthday.