I spent a good part of today thinking about you. About how last year for your birthday I sent you flowers. About how I let your thank you phone call go to voice mail until it was more convenient for me to call you back. I did not know or fully appreciate how precious your time was.
This year, I bought you a bit of chocolate topped with peanut butter frosting. I placed it on a pure white French porcelin plate. One candle, I thought, would do for a quiet celebration of ninty years. The last time I asked you, you told me that red was your favorite color. So, red it was.
A Windsor chair at the head of the dining room table. Reserved for special occasions. Reserved for special people on their birthday. I sat quietly to the right. I lit the candle and watched it bring light to the darkened room and warmth to a darkened heart. I sang Happy Birthday. A song laced with tears that flowed on forever. I closed my eyes and blew out the candle knowing that my birthday wish would not come true.
Happy Birthday, Mom. I love you.
Suzy
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