Growing up, I could never keep my Mom’s birthday straight. It was mid-April, I could remember, near Tax Day. Some years I would think it was the 12th, other times the 18th. Birthdays were never a real priority in our family, so it wasn’t a big deal if I got the date wrong.
Although my world still doesn’t revolve around birthdays, I don’t think I’ll ever miss my Mom’s again. Today is her birthday, and if she were still here, I would have called her this morning to tell her that I love her, and that I’m sorry for missing her birthdays for all of those years.
Happy 61st, Mom. We really miss you.