March 19, 2016

• The First Day Of Spring

  About a decade or so ago I decided to reclaim my birthday. I always thought the first day of Spring was a great day for a birthday. Rebirth. Shedding all of Winter's grunge. My special day.

  Unfortunately, while growing up it was not a day we celebrated. sure, Mom always baked a torte and there must have been some gifts, though I don't remember. What I do remember are my mother's tears. Not only were the circumstances of my birth out of wedlock shaming in the fifties, but it was also the date her own beloved father died when she was only a child. Yeah. Not much to celebrate.

  So as I said, some time ago I decided to embrace the day. I made no apologies for looking forward to the day and planned something special. Or allowed and enjoyed when others made special plans for the day. I didn't call my mother, and usually didn't accept her calls, choosing instead to call her on her birthday a week later.

  William was great at birthdays. He was definitely the romantic in the relationship. My birthday would never arrive without flowers awaiting me in the morning. And so, another first. Tomorrow I'll wake up to the first day of Spring and my 59th birthday. Oddly enough, I never thought about being a young widow. (Funny to think of 59 as young too. My sons would surely tell me that ship has sailed.)  I'm going to have breakfast with William's  niece who is in town for a wedding.  I'll spend the rest of the day being kind to myself.

  Happy Spring!

  • 9:45 pm
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