The sweetest gift

Last week was my birthday.

As I’ve been a nurse for 20 years I am sure you can do the math.

I’m over 40.

We have an evening housekeeper who terminally cleans the rooms most evenings.

She is sharp.

She is efficient.

She always comes to me with any problems with the rooms.

She is awesome.

And I tell her so.

I also tell her that I miss her when she has a day off.

We commiserate about working too much.

Seriously, she’s awesome.

In my department they post the birthdays at the desk.

She noticed that it was my birthday last week and wished me a happy birthday last week.

I took my actual birthday off.

None of this birthday week nonsense for me.

When I saw her the next day she said that she had missed me.

And happy birthday again.

I thanked her.

We went back to work.

Near the end of our respective shifts she came rushing to the OR desk, bearing cupcakes and a vase of flowers.

I must admit I almost cried.

She said that she wanted to celebrate my birthday in some way.

And I thanked her, and thanked her.

I’m not a hugger and, you know, pandemic but it was heartfelt.

It certainly put a much needed smile on my face.

The evening had been rough.

But that is a story for another time.