Norwegian stood in my bedroom, her soft face carrying a concerned expression.
"Drink this," she said, pushing a delicious mocha coffee my way. "You need it."
"Thanks," I said, gratefully sipping from the plastic cup.
"I don't get how you're still going," she noted. "I would be balling my eyes out."
"I'm kind of going back and forth," I admitted. "Every once in a while it'll really hit me and then I start crying, but I've been trying really hard not to do that."
Today was not the birthday I expected it to be. No one has died or is seriously ill or injured, but it was a very trying experience. I'll write a fuller post on it, when I have the energy. I haven't slept in more than a day.
"Yeah," I said. "I kept thinking it was the worst birthday ever because of everything that happened, but then this afternoon I looked on my Facebook page and saw how many people had written to wish me a happy birthday or just ask if I was okay. And then there were all the voicemails on my phone from people checking in to make sure I was alright."
The tears started welling in spite of me.
"I kind of realized that a lot of people love me," I said. My words were halting. "A lot of people really care about me. So I guess...it was a pretty good birthday."
Norwegian's blue eyes started to water.
"I think you need a hug," she said.
"I think so, too," I seconded.
She wrapped her arms tightly around me and I didn't fight it at all.
There, my face against her shoulder, it was okay to weep.