A song for Tom from Jess

[Verse 1]
Tom, you’re forty with your hands at ten and two,
Air-drumming every red light like the whole road’s made for you.
I watch you tap the steering wheel, lost in your own show,
And love the way you never mind who’s waiting in the row.

[Pre-Chorus]
Sunday comes, the skillet smokes,
You flip those pancakes—there they go.
We laugh, we scrape, we make them work;
You serve them up like they’re dessert.

[Chorus]
Tom, Tom, my favorite kind of wild,
My steady heart, my laughing child.
Tom, Tom, forty looks like you—
A little burned, a lot of love, and every dream come true.
So here’s to all the roads we’ve roamed,
To every crooked thing we’ve called our home.
Tom, Tom, today I’m singing true:
I’d choose this life, and you, and you.

[Verse 2]
You built our daughter’s treehouse high among the leaves,
No pages, no instructions—just a pocket full of screws.
One board leaned a little, one step sat askew,
But she climbed up and called it hers, and I saw the best of you.

[Pre-Chorus]
You make a plan by making do,
Then somehow make a dream come true.
The years can turn, the seasons run;
You’re still my home, my number one.

[Chorus]
Tom, Tom, my favorite kind of wild,
My steady heart, my laughing child.
Tom, Tom, forty looks like you—
A little burned, a lot of love, and every dream come true.
So here’s to all the roads we’ve roamed,
To every crooked thing we’ve called our home.
Tom, Tom, today I’m singing true:
I’d choose this life, and you, and you.

[Bridge]
When the years have changed the view,
When the red lights all turn green,
I’ll still be right beside you,
Cheering for your offbeat dreams.
And if the pancakes catch again,
We’ll laugh and scrape the pan—
You built a place for her to climb;
You built a life I love to stand in.

[Final Chorus]
Tom, Tom, my favorite kind of wild,
My steady heart, my laughing child.
Tom, Tom, forty looks like you—
A little burned, a lot of love, and every dream come true.
So here’s to all the roads we’ve roamed,
To every crooked thing we’ve called our home.
Tom, Tom, my birthday wish is you:
I’d choose this life, and you, and you.

[Outro]
Tom, happy birthday, love.
Forty years—and still my favorite one.