When I was speaking to my mom last week, she couldn’t remember what day my birthday was. She was just a couple of days off. I know she’s 85 years old, and I should understand that kind of slip, but I have to admit I was a little hurt. As I thought about it more, though, I remember that she’s not the woman who gave birth to me, so the day isn’t one that’s ingrained in her memory. In fact, I came to her several months later.
So I wondered… Yesterday, was there a 60 year old woman somewhere in the South Bay silently wishing me a Happy Birthday? I silently wished it she was.