On the occasion of my seventy-fifth birthday, I was able to do a lot of reflecting and begin my celebration with much less regret than usual. I had the opportunity to speak with some of my children, open a variety (87 to be exact) of greeting cards (some with special $urprises inside, and take in all the beautiful presents like that huge TV, new stand for it and the recliner that does everything except the dishes. This is from two of my four remaining children and my daughter-in-love-to-be.
As lovely as these and other presents are, I knew that the arrival of the enormous television, like the recliner, motion sensor lights, and many other gadgets, especially by my youngest son, was to accommodate my low vision. All their thoughtfulness touches my heart, and as I reflected on the years of raising them and surviving together in pretty tough situations, I am proud to see how they grew up and not only survived but thrived. Their collective and private traumas did not prevent them from remembering how to love and make it in good and bad times.
As the birthday celebration continued, my visits from many neighbors in our senior community knocked and presented cards and gifts for this pivotal, as one put it, birthday. Every birthday is a notable-a turning point, one no less than the other. My great-grandchildren are reaching such ages, and I observe the looks on the faces of their proud parents.
As a young mother, I remember doing that whole thing — about my children being so many months old and seeing the puzzled look on the other person that said, “Oh, go ahead and say two years old instead of 20 plus months, but the pride of a parent, especially a mother, required, that I celebrate every milestone that welcomed the stages since birth. The sitting, standing, walking alone, and the first school pictures, proms, and so on are part of that beautiful ritual.
My parents are no longer here to say, “Well, Zenobia made seventy-five,”: but if they were alive, I know they would celebrate as they always did. Their firstborn has done a lot of sitting up, standing, and walking. I have reached many landmark occasions in life, and I like to think that they would still say to me, “Now, blow out the candles!” which, if all were lit at once, might be a surefire hazard!
At the cumulation of my birthday blast, an ex-co-worker took me to PF Chang’s, where a flaming something or other was sent to our table, where I wept for joy and thanked God for this life and whatever else it had to bring. New adventures await, and I am so happy to be a part of this life!
Oh, I almost forgot, I had the chance to read an entry of mine with my favorite senior writing team, The Senior Scribblers out of Franklin, Massachusetts. One of my real treats of the day!
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