Ok so my birthday was a few days ago and I intended to write about the fun stuff we did and the beautiful flowers I got. Ok, ok I’ll show you a picture.
So anyway that was my intention until I got this phone call. Granted I had gotten a few happy birthday calls throughout the day, but this was different. I didn’t recognize the number so I answered with my usual semi-friendly, but not too friendly, “hi this is jen.” And I get back “hi Jen this is your grandpa.” Literally my heart probably stopped because the voice was clearly an old man’s and both my grandpas are dead. So as I’m freaking out trying to figure out if this is some kind of gift from God or a cruel joke, “grandpa” keeps talking about wishing me a happy birthday. I mean my 25th birthday is kind of a mile stone right? I can now rent a car without paying obscene prices and 25’s a pretty nice number, but I wasn’t sure it warranted a call from beyond the grave.
Fast forward about 12 seconds when I pull myself together and realize that it’s Josh’s grandpa who’s called me. oohhhhhhhhhh. Not that I wouldn’t have loved a phone call from either of my biological grandparents, but I was definitely relieved to be speaking to Grandpa Hibben, who is a great grandpa in a ton of ways and has treated me like a granddaughter. Evidenced by the traditional birthday phone call to all the Hibben grandchildren. Next year I’ll remember that.