Happy Birthday, Mom

November is always an introspective time for me. The Girl Child's birthday is one day before my mother's, both are less than a week before my stillborn son Max's birthday. It's a month when I am very aware of the seasons passing, the holidays are coming, the new year is approaching. I remember where I was when my daughter was born, and the million miles I've traveled to here and now. In the last few years I've become conscious of my mother's age (she's 75 today). It scares me a little sometimes. Not much and not often, because my mother is the youngest 75 you could ever imagine. Just listening to her list what she's accomplished in a day makes me feel like a nap. I think of her being the same as when I was in high school - energetic, buoyant, immortal. But the truth is, she's getting older. I want to deny it, make it stop happening, I want her to be here with me when I'm 75.

I have so much love and respect for my mom. She is the anchor of our family, the legend-keeper, the heirloom-maker, she is the root that holds us in place during the storm. I have rarely seen her lose her temper, she is unflappable, strong and just the right amount of silly. She has a vampire fetish that I (and my children) have inherited. She creates amazing things out of beads and thread or glue and glass or fabric and imagination. I have her to thank for my craftiness, my curiosity and my love of words. She does crosswords and never leaves any blank spaces. She deosn't like to cook, and makes no excuses for it. I love that about her. She's good at the things that are important, like cookies & biscuits, giving & receiving, dancing & singing, holding hands & laughing. Happy Birthday, Mom, and many many dozens more to you. I love you always.

And by the way, Mom? Stop buying yourself stuff so I can give you something for your birthday!