Monday, January 18, 2016


"Mom...where are you? Does your nose hurt?"
This was the start of my birthday - me blowing my nose and Bugaboo concerned and trying to find me. He had been up for a couple of hours reading his books in his room, and he padded into my room in his footie pajamas, leaving a mess of books behind him.

There are a few days each year that have some tough moments. I never fail to wonder if my father thinks about me on this day. Does he feel bad about what he has missed out on? Does he even think for a moment on this day of doing the right thing? I know on my kids' birthdays I remember so many beautiful things about the day they were born. Does my father remember anything beautiful about me?

Sometimes, especially on birthdays, I can think of what I should have accomplished or acquired by now. I make checklists in my head, and very few of the items are marked off. But having a bigger house in a better neighborhood with more money in the bank would not guarantee more happiness. Doing something notable does not equate to doing something valuable.

Birthdays in the 21st century are wonderful and strange. Thanks to Facebook I received birthday messages from friends from every stage of life - it is like having one's life flash before her own eyes via newsfeed. Beautiful memories of birthdays past celebrated with slumber parties in my basement or Cheddar's on South Glenstone. In every season of my life I have been given the gift of amazing and true friends. This year is no exception.

My morning started with my three guys bringing me birthday cards. "MOME" was written on one of the envelopes.  Bubby also made a to-do list for the day: "CADS. BLOONC. MAC HOUS LUOK PRID. LOUC. HPENI. PDE HATS." He handed it to me and said, "I messed up on the word lunch." My life is not much like I thought it would be at thirty-five. Yet when I stop and think about it, it is everything I hoped it would be. I lack no good thing. I can say that with confidence. I lack no good thing.

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