A milestone birthday


I learned about a new singer the other day, by the name of - according to mom - Rizzo.

So I'm thinking, what does this have to do with the late mayor of Philadelphia? Absolutely nothing, since the name of the singer she was referencing is Lizzo.

But I'm going to go off topic in this post to focus on a milestone: My mother turns 85 on Monday. 

The card is in the mail; no happy birthday texts here. My mother loves getting cards and is still a writer of letters, in a light and airy  cursive we used to forge on our report cards when they showed less-than-stellar grades. (Actually, dad's signature was easier.)

The birthday gift suggestions are plenty, coming as they do from the gift recipient herself. 

"Just get me some gift certificates," she advises, most of which will have to be redeemed in a post-COVID world. 

Celebrating your birthday during a pandemic is a bit of a bummer. Not all of those invited to mom's birthday gathering will come; the rest of us will have to wear our masks. And I'm thinking blowing out the birthday candles is not advisable during this time unless her mask is made of Swiss cheese.

COVID or not, my mother at 85 is the same indomitable spirit she was at 55, 65 and 75. She'll tell you she's had blessings in abundance, that she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. I can tell you she's also had more than her share of heartache and tribulation, and the silver spoon was often tarnished. 

But having your mom around for so long is indeed a blessing. No one is as happy to hear your voice on the phone or see you in her doorway. Her grandchildren get a kick out of her when she mistakenly calls them by names other than their own; they also love her to pieces. One, I should add, used to produce regular Angry Grandmom videos, little snippets of  grandmotherly love that often abruptly ended with: "Get the hell away from me!"

My siblings and I take turns bringing her to ShopRite, eating takeout at McDonald's, or simply walking around outside her apartment complex. These routine tasks often produce memorable  laughs about not much of anything, after which she will often say, "I love you." She does that more now than she used to, though we never doubted how she felt. 

It's easy to take your mother for granted when she's 55, 65 or 75. At 85, she's in your every thought  because, let's face it, she put a silver spoon in your mouth, too.    



  




    



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