You would have been 11 today. You would have curled around me like a serpentine thing and fallen asleep within minutes. Do I say I miss you? Is it enough? We are creatures built to love, you and I, and the price for that magic is loss. The price is this ache. Know that I will pay it, know that I will gladly feel the hole in me that you left. Do I say I miss you? Know that you saved my life, more times than I could count, in ways I cannot begin to mention. Happy Birthday my perfect Hobbes. I will celebrate you this day, as I do every day, and I will feel you near me as I look for you again, for I know you are here now, I know you chose to come back, even though you did not have to return. You are here, within me, and you are here, saving someone else’s life, one piece at a time, while I type these words. Happy Birthday Hobbes. I love you.