Big Papa and I climb to the top of the observation tower at Riefel Bird Sanctuary in Ladner, British Columbia to see what we can see. From every direction marsh and mountain reach out to greet us. Ducks escort their brood through tiny estuaries that wind their way through miles upon miles of Canadian marshland. Yellow-leg Sandpipers skirt along the surface and appear be walking on water. Great Blue Herons drop their landing gear on the aqua blue runway.
We hike up three flights of metal stairs to reach the viewing platform. When we are a couple steps away, a little voice calls down to us: “Can you see it?” “See what?” I reply to the pint-sized tow-headed boy who appears just a few feet above me. “The island.”
He might have been four or five years old and has his dad tow. Dad points off in the distance toward a speck of a hump, Bowen Island, and tells they’d visited this island some time ago.
And then, in an instant the little guy moves on to his next observation: “Can you see the cracks in the dirt down there? “ he asks us as he points downward to the bottom of the observation tower. “Yeah” Big Papa and I answer in tandem. “Do you know what those are?” his dad asks him. “No.” “It’s because the ground is dry” Dad informs all of us.
I continue on about the mud, “Hey, look at the thousands of bird tracks” I say as I wave my hand toward the mud flats with bird hieroglyphics crisscrossing every which way. Flat-footed ducks and three-toed Sandpipers leave weaving trails of prints. The kid doesn’t seem all that interested. He’s got a truckload of questions on his mind that he rattles off one by one.
After a few minutes I say to him, “Hey, you know that guy you’re talking to (motioning in Big Papa’s direction), well it’s his birthday today. “Oh” he whispers with a bit of awe and turns toward Big Papa: “Do you want a marshmallow? “Dad, can we give him a marshmallow?” Dad tells the kid there are four marshmallows left and that if he gives Big Papa and me two of those, there will be two left. “Ok.”
Dad reaches into his pocket and pulls out a visibly worn Kraft marshmallow bag and Big Papa and I are each handed a Marshmallow. We accept gratefully as the towheaded kid and his dad disappear down the stairway. 
The marshmallow softens and sugar fills my mouth. My heart melts just a little bit and lets sweet emotions seep in.
There are days when I wonder if we will ever become parents. Waiting feels like forever, we bump up against unexpected walls and there have been a number of significant challenges…some that I am not able to write about just now. Sometimes I feel dejected, beaten even. Then, when I least expect it, out of the blue comes an instant like this one that touches my very core and reminds me why we’ve traveled this far and why we endure all that we have endured.
This journey we’re on is both wondrous and heartbreaking. Simple moments like this get me through, a gesture that starts as something so small and then unfolds its wings to soar as the dream of something so much bigger.
Birthdays that fall on holidays are fraught with competing interests. I have a few friends whose birthdays fall between Christmas and the New Year. They have commented that presents get “combined” and their birthday plays second fiddle to the hubbub surrounding the holidays. Other friends with birthdays on holidays have said that it was tough to find attendees for birthday parties because their friends were celebrating the holiday with family or out of town.