Today is 9/11. It’s also my birthday. I’m 56.
For some people, turning another year older makes them sad or depressed, but for me every year past the age of 52 is a bonus year. One more year I can celebrate by being on this earth with family and friends and enjoying life. As you may have guessed, my mom passed away at age 52, so there’s my logic.
That’s Earline Turner and her daughter on the big day in 1978. The color peach was running rampant, and my dress was made of an ever-so-popular textile named simply “Qiana.” (Kee-YAH-nuh). That’s right-the timely disco era fabric that seemed to take the place of silk, even though it was fabricated by DuPont. Don’t judge me.
So, as I sit here working, drinking my coffee and eating my oatmeal, I’m reminded of how fast time really does fly and just trying to make every single moment count. You know what I mean if you’re over the age of 40 because that’s when time really does start to fly and you really start noticing. Before that we catch ourselves wanting Mondays to hurry and pass because we hate them, or wishing we were 16 so we can drive, or holding our breath until we move out of our parents’ house so we can be independent. What I would give to be safe and sound in my parents’ home once again with not a care or responsibility in the world. sigh.
As the television and radio stay silent today, and as I stay inside avoiding news and facebook postings (other than birthday wishes), I vow to myself to allow me to celebrate the birth of me for once in many years since 2001. You know. Not that I still don’t remember and mourn with the rest of America because I do. I also remember happy moments of me and my mother together years ago and wonder what she would look like and be like today, at age 80. I never knew her woman to woman. I wonder if she would be full of fun and happiness as she always was. I wonder if she would be living with us or still be living in her house. I wonder what we would talk about today when she called or met me for lunch on my special day. I would bring her daisies (her favorite) as a thank you for having me and being such a great mom.
I love this photo of her holding newborn me, and Earline would love it too. I’m ever so thankful that whoever captured it in time did. Earline would also hate the other photo because it was before she got her teeth fixed-sorry mom. I love it because you have your arms around me.
Happy Birthday to her little girl today.
For some strange reason I’d love a store-bought round 2-layer white birthday cake with white sugary cavity-inducing buttercream frosting topped with pink ballerinas.
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