yes. yes. yes.
We’ve spent the month of March saying Happy Birthday to a new person each time a new day dawns.
Today marks the last in a long line of March birthdays…
A day so important that you would think I would have done… more.
A day that I should throw my all into and ensure that the birthday girl receives my full attention, admiration, adoration…
By the time this day comes each year I am so tired I can’t think straight.
So my dear mother often gets the shaft on her birthday.
The short end of the birthday stick.
She gets my love. She gets my respect. She’ll even get an obnoxious phone call from me when I wake up singing a distorted version of an old familiar birthday tune.
Will her card make it through the mail and to her home on time? No! Will her present? No! (but this year I blame my dad for that…. but I may not yet be able to disclose why…)
Her card will be late and so will her gift. Her daughter will sing in a voice no one wants to hear and her granddaughter will speak nicely into the phone for about 30 seconds before begging off to play with her toys.
But we’re sending her love. All the love we can muster. Love for all she is and all she does.
Happy birthday mom.
I’m so thankful for you.