My birthday is in September, this week. It is hard to imagine that I am 77. One of my grand daughters is 7. What a nice age that is, starting first grade, organizing her wardrobe the night before and getting on a big school bus. 77 is different. A card from my youngest daughter says it all: on the front there is a picture of a little girl looking out at a long dock across a lake. The caption reads: “On your birthday… before you walk the path toward the next phase of life’s journey, I will ask the question every woman must consider.”
Take a moment and think what that might be.
“Do you gotta go potty first?” (To which my daughter added: this card was made
I have always thought that September was a lousy time for a birthday. My sister has a birthday on July 6th. Since we were always at my grandparent’s place on Cape Cod in July, there was always a lot of company and we celebrated, if not on the 6th, certainly on July 4th, with fire crackers bursting in air and the whole bit. Plus lots of presents. Then Labor Day came and we returned to our winter homes. School would begin and there I was, possibly in a new class or a new school and no company providing mounds of gifts. Was it the gifts, or the company or the party? Not sure but I was sorry when my oldest grand-daughter was born in September as well. Poor kid.
All this complaining about birthdays has not stopped them from coming. I have reached the big 77. Or as my sister says, 49.95 plus tax. Ten years ago we returned to our home town where our kids grew up. It has been wonderful being near two of our kids and their children. Our Minnesota daughter sent her son to college here. He was married last summer and is working not too far away. I expect we will see them at Christmas. His sister now lives in California and, who knows, we may see her then as well. Our youngest, also from California, is glad we are closer and visits us often. We love having them come because her husband, Gary, always seems to bring sunshine to the great North West.
But about this nebulous September birthday….. I have found a way to celebrate. At 77 you don’t need much. Better to get rid of things than add to the collections in the house, fabric and yarn being notable exceptions. So every fall since we returned to the area, I take my school-teacher daughter shopping for her “back to school clothes”. We drive to an outlet center, eat lunch and talk school stuff. Then I buy her some new clothes, not a lot, but enough to make her presentable for her first weeks of school before sitting on the floor and mopping up paint takes over her wardrobe.
And we go potty first and again on the way home. That was last weekend. So, I’ve just had my “Happy Birthday Party”. Happy Birthday to me.
And there was a bonus event when my grand daughter (turning 26) and I and blew out 103 imaginary candles on our gluten free brownies! Happy Birthday to us.