Ok, It’s 57
Mombo began one of her blog entries with, “Ok, it’s 81.” Well, today I wasn’t feeling that it was ok to be 57. It felt way too close to 60. And a kid named Carlos hit my coffee mug with his backpack and sent it flying across the floor where it broke into 20 pieces with the kids all standing there. And I got to Krogers in the rain and the car wouldn’t start without dying immediately for at least 15 starts. I had said I would knock off work early since it was my birthday after all, but then I had the dreaded bus duty and still had to put away books and do my last minute purchase orders so I didn’t get home until later than I wanted.
BUT. . . .I had wonderful birthday cards and email cards and phone messages. Betty Jo even sent me a gift card for the Depot restaurant. Joe used to be blown away by how I would display all my birthday cards on top of the refrigerator or the piano. “I’ve never known anyone who gets as many birthday cards as you do.” And Nancy sent me three “memory” cd’s of songs from back when. Caitlan’s birthday e-card made me cry, and then Ian called, and we had the nicest talk. So I blew my nose and put on a happy face and went downstairs to say hello to Jerome and Janet, and Janet said supper would be ready in half an hour. So I decided to treat myself to a hot bath, and when I got downstairs the dining room was decked out with a wonderful dinner of pasta with sundried tomatoes and asparagus, a perfect pinot noir, and a chocolate birthday cake with my name on it and three candles (Father, Son, and Holy Spirit). Good conversation, and they sang “Happy Birthday!” (Actually, Jeanne had already sung it via email earlier in the day.) The worst part of my birthdays since Joe died is that I’m afraid no one will sing to me, since he always did. But tonight was special, thanks to my housemates at Yorkshire Estates, and if you see the pictures you’ll know why I have on my bathrobe. Yes, Mom, you were right. Thank you, Lord, it’s great to be 57. . .