The Time I Thought They Forgot My Birthday

The Universe schooled me this week.

I thought my coworkers were going to forget my birthday. You know, kinda like what happened to Molly Ringwald in Sixteen Candles. Except I am a GROWN WOMAN and felt really dumb worrying about people forgetting my 43RD BIRTHDAY. And yet, I worried.

“Maybe you should drop a hint?” my sister half-joked.

“I can’t do that! I’ll look crazy!” I answered.

So the anxiety stayed in the back of my mind for the next few days. I wondered why I cared so much. I don’t really like being the center of attention, so why did it matter if they remembered or not. It matters because them remembering makes you feel like YOU matter, I thought to myself. Oh right. That makes sense. Conversely, if people forget, it means you don’t matter. Nobody wants to not matter. Duh.

Anyway, these girls remembered like a boss. They remembered so hard. Balloons, decorations, cupcakes, flowers, a card, lunch and treats. They even sung the birthday song. They outdid all previous coworker birthday celebrations. How could I ever have doubted them? That was silly.

Universe: When will you learn? I got this.


A Letter to My Mom on Her Birthday


Dear Mom,

You’ve been gone 5 years now. Sometimes it feels like 500 years. Sometimes it feels like 5 minutes. I still think about you all the time and am amazed that life is still happening without you. Because I used to wonder how it would.

I would love to know if you can see us where you are. Did you see we met Oprah? Can you see how grown up Hannah is? Were you cheering when I got my job? Do you laugh when I say things you used to say? I think so.

I still want to talk to you about things all the time.

I still want to come to your house to hide out and bury myself in quilts on your couch.

I still want to hear your voice telling me I’m doing the right thing and that I will figure it out.

I still want to call and ask what you’re doing …and if you want to go to Target.

I still want to see Hannah sitting next to you while you read her a book.

I still want to lie in bed with you while we laugh our heads off about a thing we think is hilarious.

I still want to go on walks with you and ponder why people don’t see things like we do.

I still want my very-best-always-in-my-corner-and-knew-what-I-was-talking-about-friend.

Hannah tells me from time to time, “Grandma was such a sweet grandma.” And you were a sweet mom, too. We were so lucky to have you. I hope you know that. I think you do.

Happy Birthday Mom!