It is a day that I have much to write about. So much that I will have to split my writing into separate posts. March is a huge birthday month in my family. Actually it begins near the end of February with the celebration of my son. Lots of Pisces living here………
My dear grand-daughter, Grace, celebrated her birthday with a perfect party last Saturday. It will take me many words to write of that day. It was filled with pleasure, pink polka dots and pure bliss. I can’t wait to share it with you. But, today is not the day. I will save it for another.
Instead, I wish to dedicate my post today to my dear, departed mother. Her birthday is tomorrow, the same day as my husbands. Mine is today. When she was alive and lived close by, we often celebrated together with one big cake, passing presents between the three of us. Often we’d go out to dinner, or she would slave over a spitting stove to cook my favorite dish of fried chicken, adding ‘real’ mashed potatoes and gravy to the side. Sometimes she’d bake a delicious home-made chocolate meringue pie for dessert, sticking a swirled candle of blue in the middle of high golden peaks. They were stiff and curled at the end, reaching towards the sky.
I remember my maternal grandmother telling me about the day I was born. How my tiny mother labored for hours to deliver me, her first-born child. She worked so very hard to push me into this world we call our own. Hours and hours went by on the large clock above her head while she squirmed in pain below. Sitting by her side, holding her hand was her own mother with tears in her eyes.
My father was not allowed in the delivery room all those years ago. Instead he paced the checkered linoleum halls of the hospital floor, waiting to hear that his baby had been born. Was it a G.I.R.L? Was it a B.O Y? Not much older than a ‘boy’ himself, he simply wanted peace of mind that his bride of 19 was safe. Would someone please tell him a healthy child had been born to cradle amongst his strong, Air Force arms?
Finally, I arrived to an exhausted mother and a beaming grandmother. My proud father was told of a daughter he was soon able to hold. Exhausted, a brand new mother cried tears of joy, like I did when my own children were born. When God gives one the gift of a child there is no other feeling like it anywhere…..anywhere.
Things were often difficult for my mother to say to me. Compliments, or “I love you.” She showed me how she felt in many ways, however. And, every year on this very date she often did say, “Kim, you were the best birthday present I could have ever asked for.” Today my birthday gift is one I give back to my mother who would have had a birthday tomorrow. She was the best birthday present I could have ever asked for……
Happy Birthday, Mom, with Love.