I did not forget your birthday yesterday. I know, I know, I didn't do the usual "sing-Burnin'-Love-at-the-top-of-my-lungs-in-the-car-on-my-way-to-work" ritual that you so look forward to every year, but I was observing your day a different way.
I abstained from blogging yesterday in honor of your birthday, Elvis. It was kind of like the Sabbath, you know? A holy day of rest.
Happy Birthday, sweetheart. Had you lived, today would've been the first day of your 73rd year. That means that, more than likely, we'd also be celebrating the anniversary of our marriage (the day back in 1994, when, at 18, I would have become your eighth--and final--young trophy bride).