I wake up too early. It’s garbage day, and the noisy garbage truck is the culprit. I tell myself to sleep in, to sleep all the live long day if I want, after all it’s not every day you turn FIFTY. THREE. (How did I get here? I was a young wife and mama and BLINK, here I am. FIFTY.THREE.!) I can’t fall back to sleep. I check the computer and see lots of birthday wishes already on Facebook. It makes me smile.
The phone rings. It’s only 7 a.m. I see that it’s youngest daughter calling from Missouri. I expect that she’s calling me with happy birthday wishes, but my heart drops when I hear tears in her voice. She’s been hurt by someone. Twenty seven or not, she’s still my baby, and I want to go to her, comfort her. (And possibly give the other party involved a piece of my mind and a punch in the nose.) She’s sorry to bother me with her problems on my birthday. I’m sorry I can’t protect her from life’s pain.
At 8 a.m. the phone rings again. It’s my 85 year old mama. I expect that she’s calling me with happy birthday wishes, but she is calling to ask me to pick something up for her at the store. I grin to myself. Mama hasn’t remembered my birthday for the past several years. She forgets to flip the calendar pages from July to August until several days into the month, so she doesn’t see the day with my birthday marked until it’s past. She asks what I’m up to today. I tell her it’s my birthday, and ask if she wants to come over for a birthday barbecue tonight. She’s been a little under the weather, so she isn’t sure. She wishes me happy birthday and closes the phone call by saying, “I love you, Honey.”
Hubby brings me my morning coffee. I LOVE my morning coffee. LOVE. He asks me what I want for breakfast, but he already knows the answer. Birthdays are not for dieting. Birthdays are for warm cinnamon rolls smothered in cream cheese frosting to go with the wonderful hot cup of morning coffee. He brings me my mooshy, love words filled, birthday card with my breakfast…and in it the print out of what should be arriving in the mail in the next day or two. A beautiful new leather briefcase/bookbag that I’ve had my eye on. I am excited about the bag, but I like the card best.
After enjoying a slower than usual start to his day, hubby heads to an appointment. One of my best friends calls and we talk quite a while. I am notorious for doing chores while I talk on the phone. I clean up the bathroom and start a load of laundry. When I hang up the phone, it rings again. This time it’s my long time best friend. We’ve been friends since we were both pregnant with our youngest ones. We talk a long, long, time. We lament on how we live less than two hours away from each other and are too busy to get together. We calendar a tentative date for later this month and pledge to make it a priority. I hang up from her and the phone rings again. My two oldest grandbabies sing happy birthday to me. My heart melts.
I get on my walking clothes, grab my IPOD and my ever present camera, and head out the door on my walk. The day is beautiful, perfect. My cell phone rings. It’s my oldest brother calling me with birthday wishes. He hangs up with the words, “I love you”.
The two oldest grandbabies come over for the afternoon. They decorate the house for my birthday dinner with flowers, filling every vessel we can find.
They make crayon signs. My grandson says it doesn’t look very birthday-ish without balloons.
Hubby buys london broil and corn on the cob for dinner. Oldest daughter is making my favorite dessert…berry cobbler served warm with ice cream. Middle daughter is bringing a caesar salad. I marinate the meat and decide to make a potato salad. The grandbabies help scrub the potatoes, peel the boiled eggs, and eat the pickles faster than I can chop them for the salad.
The family arrives bearing gifts.
The oldest grandbabies both want to pray before dinner. They bless the food, and bless me too, in their praying. The phone rings. A sweet friend from church calls and sings, “On the day that you were born, the angels got together and decided to create a dream come true…” I giggle and comment that I never knew she had such a good singing voice. The family eats dinner out on the deck. Grandson eats three huge helpings of potato salad. I guess helping to make it took the mystery out of this food he never cared for before. After dinner, Uncle plays football with the older grandbabies.
Youngest granddaughter watches and wants in on the action.
The family sings “Happy Birthday” before we scoop up big bowls of warm cobbler and top it with ice cream.
Overall, the day almost made turning FIFTY. THREE. worthwhile.
I’m linking to Tuesday Unwrapped at Chatting at the Sky.