Mr. Birthday-Remembered — 8 AM Text, Card in the Mail, not a facebook thumbs-up

Lyrics

The screen is still dark.
The whole house is quiet.
Just the hum of the fridge.
And my thumb hovering over your name.

Before the algorithm wakes up.
Before the wall fills with ghosts and strangers.
Before the day gets its hands on you.
Just this.
Eight A.M. on the dot.
A quiet buzz on your nightstand.
Not just the three letters.
Something real. 
Remember that winter on Lake Street? 
I still think about that.

This is not for the feed.
This is not a notification.
This is the small extra step.
The gentle glance that says, I see you.
Not just today.
But the you from last year, and the year before that.

The little book with the cracked spine comes off the shelf.
My thumb on your old address.
Hope you're still there.
I pick a card with a bird on it, no words inside.
So I can use my own.
Blue ink on thick paper.
The lick of a stamp.
Sending a piece of myself through the city to find you.

This is not for the feed.
This is not a notification.
This is the small extra step.
The gentle glance that says, I see you.
Not just today.
But the you from last year, and the year before that.

Friendship is just a long story of remembering.
It's the thread you follow, year after year.
It’s the daily devotion.
This is how we hold the line against the drift.
This is the whole album.
Just this.

A clank of the mailbox closing down the street.
The work is done.
And the day can begin.
Just thinking of you.