Yesterday was my birthday, and it was pretty great.
Our living room furniture finally arrived, so after more than a month of not watching a single thing on our brand-new television, Elysha and I finally sat down on our brand-new couch last night and watched a movie.
Deadpool 2.
It was just as brilliant as the first. My favorite superhero film of all time.
I’ve never seen a film break the third and fourth walls.
Nor did I even know that there was a fourth wall to break.
I also enjoyed dinner with the family at my favorite restaurant, The Corner Pug. I visited the gym, the grocery store, and Goodwill, all before 9:00 AM, which made me feel exceptionally productive. Our windows were measured for next month’s replacement. I wrestled with Charlie and danced with Clara. We ate ice cream cake that Kay, the Carvel employee, gave to me as a gift.
We’re very loyal customers.
And I received some spectacular cards from Elysha and the kids, a Dunder-Mifflin hat that I love more than you could know, and the gift of an overnight stay at the Mystic Aquarium next month with the family.
Perfection.
On the not-so-perfect side, I also managed to knock out the internet while moving the hardware into our new cabinet and never managed to restore it, so I’m writing this using the internet at my favorite McDonald’s restaurant. It cost me about two hours of attempted repairs before I finally threw in the towel and called it quits.
A small hiccup in my birthday perfection.
Birthdays can also be tough, given that my mom passed away 13 years ago. Perhaps it’s just me, but there is a real difference between celebrating your birth while your mother is still alive and celebrating it after she has passed away.
Not having a relationship with my father probably makes this even more problematic, I suspect.
More than forty years ago, my mom and I began a journey together. Now she has stepped off the path, leaving me to finish this journey alone.
Not that I plan on finishing. I plan on living forever, of course. My recent cardiac calcium score was a zero, which is remarkable, so unless a bus clobbers me or I fall into a sudden sinkhole, I’ll be here until the sun explodes, but still, you know what I mean.
There was something about having my mother here on my birthday that made it feel like a celebration of our day. The day we met for the first time. Something that only the two of us could share.
One of the most important days in both of our lives started together and shared together.
Now it’s only my day. I can celebrate today with family ands friends, but I have no one left standing to remember and celebrate that specific day in 1971 when I was first born.
No one who remembers that moment when I first appeared in this world.
The mother who gave birth to me more than forty years ago is no longer with me, making birthdays feel a little more empty and a little less worthy of celebration.
Happily, I’ve got Elysha, Clara, and Charlie to push away those dark clouds and fill the day with happiness and celebration, which they did with beautiful smiles, lots of laughter, and gobs of love.
I’m so very lucky to be me.
