I struggle a bit with this birthday for some reason. I'm not turning 50 or 60. I wasn't angry when I turned 40. For some odd reason, I hate the fact that I will be 48.
Mom has been gone for over 4 years now. Her telling the story of my birth resonates in my mind. We used to get drunk on red wine and she would tell the tale of being in labor, wanting that last cigarette four times, making my dad drive all over looking at lights, the doctor being MIA and the nuns putting her to sleep.
I popped out 48 minutes after midnight.
I am almost positive that if the events didn't happen, my birthday would be today.
I think the main reason that this birthday upsets me is the fact every day when I walk into work, there is a countdown to Christmas. This countdown also is to my birthday. This countdown reminds me of the days to when my mom isn't here to tell the story of my birth.
Jesus may have his story told over and over.
I miss mine.
No comments:
Post a Comment