Well, it may be seventy-nine degrees outside, but November has officially begun. It’s the month of being thankful, the month of (maybe) some cooler weather, the month of shorter days, and the month of my mother. For as long as I can remember, November has belonged to my mother. Her birthday was 11/11.
Birthdays have always been a relatively big deal in my family – going out to dinner, inviting friends over, having cake and ice cream. Opening gifts. I always liked shopping for mom – there was always books she wanted to read, or a new coffee mug from our city in China, new shoes, maybe a new purse. Anything that had the girls’ pictures on it was a hit.
Last year during her birthday celebration, A&M was playing Alabama and I had to drag my dad and Jeff away from the game in order to make our dinner reservations at Pappadeaux. We spent most of the meal talking about the football game. And trying to keep the girls entertained with crackers and bread. Not that it mattered. I think my mother was happy that we were here and together. It was the first birthday I had spent with her in seven years.
This year, I’m sure it will be a difficult day. I will miss her terribly, but I think she’d get a kick out of never aging. She used to tell people that she was 39.
So, happy birthday Mom. You’ll always be 39 to me.