“I bet there aren’t many people doing this on their 21st birthday. I don’t even have champagne.”
Sam squeezes my hand. “You always were different. And anyway, you hate champagne.”
He’s right of course, but still…it seems wrong somehow. I’m definitely 21 in my head, so why has my body let me down? As always Sam seems to read my mind. “You do know that to me you will always be the beautiful 20 year-old I fell in love with? The one who was so excited about her 5th birthday party.”
I look into his wrinkled face and count my blessings. Although today is officially my 21st birthday, I’m really 84 – and I’ve been lucky enough to spend 64 of those years with Sam. The nurse comes to wheel me away. When I come round from the anaesthetic I’ll have a brand new hip, and my same old, lovely Sam.