Robert’s birthday was a few days ago, on December 28th. Ana Maria was born on January 1st.

I remember talking with them about having birthdays so close together (they loved it), about having winter birthdays (cozy! Perfect for staying in and doing art and tinkering projects), and about Zodiac signs (they were both Capricorn. Once, when Ana Maria joked that Robert was even more Capricornishly stubborn than she was and started listing his “stubborn faults,” Robert answered, very suredly: “One person’s ‘stubborn’ is another person’s ‘focused and driven.’ ” ) I never tired of hearing them quip back and forth like that! I would laugh so hard that I had to have a drink of water.

Ana Maria always had a festive, holiday air about her, no matter what time of the year it was. But Christmas and New Year celebrations were special, and her zest for crafts and get-togethers and meaningful gifts and family seemed to come to the fore in the wintertime.

One winter evening, a few of years ago, we got together with our girls. We had dinner at their house, a winter-art session around the table in the kitchen, and then a walk outside afterwards, to look at the stars.

It wasn’t too clear, but we had a glow-in-the-dark book of the constellations, and we were trying to locate them in the night sky. My birthday is in the wintertime, too. In December, like Robert’s. But my Zodiac sign is Sagittarius. He often chided me for my Sagittarian traits, and made a silly Sadge vs. Cap contest out of whatever we were talking about.

Like that evening’s star-gazing.

I was having trouble finding one of the constellations—I don’t remember which one it was now, but Ana Maria took me by the shoulder with one hand, and pointed up with her other hand, as if her earnestness would get me to see what so far I hadn’t been able to see. “It’s right there!” she said, and then laughed with me, because she realized that she was pointing to the WHOLE SKY, with its endless zillions of stars. We looked at the book again. I saw it in the book. In the actual sky, though, there were vagaries and nuances that hid the constellation from me. After a few minutes of pointing to no avail, Ana Maria said: “You know what? You can see it here” (she pointed to the book) “and here” (she pointed to her head) “and here” (and she pointed to her heart.)

I nodded. That was good enough for me.

Not good enough for Robert, though!

He was determined to help me see this constellation. He stood me in the right place and pointed up, like Ana Maria had. And he very systematically described three “marker stars” of triangulation, then told me that I should be looking smack in the center.

Nope. Wasn’t working.

He could see it. Ana Maria could see it, too. (The girls had abandoned star-gazing and were playing on the grass.)

“Maybe Sagittarians just can’t see things that Capricorns see,” I joked.

Robert nodded and joked back: “Yeah, Sagittarians need crystal clear skies and ultra bright stars. Sorry…”

We all went back inside for a while, then said our goodnights.

Fast forward to these past few weeks.

I’ve been looking at the stars. It’s been clear. I’ve been able to see the constellations. Not all, but the ones I set out to see.

Happy Birthday, Robert.

Happy Birthday, Ana Maria.

Thank you for the crystal clear skies and ultra bright constellations. You always gave —and continue to give—the most meaningful gifts.

Love,
—from Heidi

Your bday is coming up and I’m thinking of you and missing you. I am so lucky to have know you and I have learned alot from you over the years. Glad we had our time together.

Blessings to all ,

Quynh

Although every mother may consider any day that her child is born a day of blessings and gratitude, for Ana Maria, Thanksgiving was especially meaningful.

When we first met at our co-op preschool, Ana Maria told me about her family’s eventful emigration to the U.S.

She said that, as an immigrant, Thanksgiving symbolized to her new beginnings: a new country and a new life of freedom, as well as the celebration of family.

What better way to honor this holiday than to give birth to Sam: a bouncing baby girl so full of life and joy and promise?

I remember saying to Ana Maria : “Wow—what a beautiful story,” and to Sam, who was sitting on her lap at the time, I said: “Your mom was counting her blessings on Thanksgiving, and you jumped to the top of the list!”

Sam replied: “Yup! That was good timing, wasn’t it?” Then she said: “But that was a long time ago.”

We all laughed together, and Ana Maria said to Sam: “It may have been a long time ago, but I’m still thankful for you!”

Sam said: “I’m thankful for you, too!” and planted a kiss on Ana Maria’s nose. They kept telling each other, back and forth, how thankful they were for each other.

“That’s a lot of thankfulness,” Sam said, still smooshed up against Ana Maria’s face. “Enough for TWO birthday parties every November. Or THREE!”

I wish I had taken a photo of that moment: the two of them nose to nose after the kiss, smiling and talking to each other with their profiles touching forehead to chin.

It was always wonderful to see them together: joking, focusing on a project, playing, cooking… No matter what it was—building a scale model of the Colosseum or frying up some quesadillas for lunch—Ana Maria and Sam were a great team.

Sam was a beautiful blend, physically, of Ana Maria and Robert. Her thick dark hair and peaches and cream skin made her the perfect Snow White during playdate dress-ups. Something about her nose and chin and smile also gave her a perfect elfin quality when she tucked her hair up into a green felt cap and became Peter Pan. No matter what she was up to, she was so much fun to be with! Quick and bright and adventurous and full of positive energy. Sam was gentle and encouraging to younger kids, totally at ease with friends her age, so easy and confident with adults.

As she grew up, Sam’s beauty and sense of wonder and adventure simply increased: she was always inquisitive, always up for something new and fun, always ready to laugh at herself when she made a mistake and try again. Her optimistic view of the world was apparent in virtually everything she said and did.

We remember these golden qualities of Sam’s, and believe that her spirit, like her optimism, is eternal.

Happy Birthday, Sam! We are all better people for having known you.

P.S.
On November 13th, the Saturn Nebula sent out a mixture of gases and dust that created a pink, green, blue, orange, and lavender display in the sky. On November 17th, there was a meteor shower, and every five minutes after midnight, there was a shooting star. And on the 26th—your birthday—a blanket of clouds covered Venus, the planet of love, entirely, heating it up and making it glow extra bright.

Sam, we’re delighted to see that you are still celebrating your birthday party at least 3 times every November!

And we are still thankful for that, too.

Love, from
—Heidi