Today is my birthday. I'm 34 years old, as of 5:25 pm. Someone told me it's not that big a deal - just marks another cycle of the earth around the sun. I told him that our mothers think about it very differently.
|(top row: mum and dad; bottom: kiki, tristan, me, nicholas, tot #1)|
No matter where we were, mum added special touches. If we were home, she made special dinners, with whatever kind of cake I wanted. (More often than not, I wanted a huge chocolate chip cookie.) My Nanny and Papa would come, and I'd have a couple of friends over, or maybe just one (Betsy Alice Ingrid Elizabeth Huff.) I would be excused from chores, given a one-day pass on my messy room, and presented with the gift of pure childhood, at least for a day.
If we weren't home, mum still found ways to celebrate. She'd gather flowers to put on the wooden picnic table at our campsite, or she'd have brought a special blanket or pillow for my tent. I could choose what hike we took, or whether we went swimming. We'd make s'mores and she wouldn't even admonish me about getting my fingers too sticky.
That birthday in the hotel room? Mum sneaked a collection of petits fours out of the business dinner and put a candle in one for me to blow out. (At the time I think I was resentful she didn't outright steal a priceless valuable or something, but I was 13. What did I know?)
This is who my mother is. She is someone who makes everything more beautiful.
|3 generations: Mum, Bug and Me|
I don't know where she learned such flair. I know from experience it wasn't from her parents or siblings. She overcame so much adversity and marginalization early in her life it's a wonder it didn't harden her, as it hardened the rest of her family. But instead I have a mum who likes pink shoes, delights in finding wildflowers in the forests around her mountain house, who keeps youth eternal and makes life sparkle for the rest of us.
|me and mommy|