Sometimes
when I sit down at the computer I just don’t have anything to say. After a few
minutes of rambling, I find out that I did. I’m hoping that this is one of
those times.
We have
started a new year. No surprise, it does after all happen every year. I’m not
that big of New Year’s events. I don’t know why really. I’ve read and heard all
of the reflections, regrets, good news and bad news from people. I don’t do
that and I never have, at least I don’t think I have. Usually I am asleep
before 10:30 on New Year’s Eve and the next day is just another day filled with
traditional food that I don’t really like. I’m a boring, hum-drum kinda gal. Oh
well, it works for me.
This New
Year’s Eve was no different. Only this time I felt sort down. Like I said, I
don’t typically reflect but this time all I could think of was now when I am
asked when she left, I have to say “last year.” That makes it seem like a long
time ago.
I said I was
tired of grief and I am. I said I would no longer be held hostage by it or my sadness.
I am firm in that statement and I think I am doing a really good job. I can’t
however, control the moments when I just think of her and miss her. Those
moments are more frequent than I let on these days. I think because Monday is
by my mom’s terms, “a special day to her.” I always said that it was just
another day and her reply was always the same. Monday is my birthday. Whoohoo
for me! Happy Birthday to me! Blah, blah, blah. Not so special this year. That
phone call won’t come. I’m down about that, but I’m not going to dwell in that
place. Still, I’m sad.
When I was
little, my mom always made my birthday’s special. If I was interested in a
particular thing, she would make a cake that reflected that. I’ve had clown
cakes, cartoon character cakes and sometimes they were just plain old cakes.
All were vanilla and almost all were made by her hands. Always a special gift
from just her. That carried over into my adult years. I could never wait to see
what special thing my mom found for me. She always just knew. One year, she was sick, a cold or something.
So I think that my dad and I made my cake. We messed that thing up pretty bad.
The cake was good, but we had no idea how to decorate. I think it was white
frosting with our version of blue flowers. Really just big ol’ blobs of blue
frosting. My mom was upset that she wasn’t able to make it. I understood, but
that cake was ugly. Now this is the part where if she were here she would tell
me to stop telling tales.
These are
the accounts as I remember them. In this particular house, we had sugar ants.
Not a few, a lot. If we didn’t clean the counters really good, they would be
covered the next morning. The bread lived in a plastic container, everything
that would normally sit out was put in the refrigerator. The pantry smelled
like mint and everything tasted like mint. I think it was supposed to ward them
off. We had little solutions of poison mixed with apple butter all over the
place. It was like we lived on a giant mound. My dad is the “I can fix it
myself” kind of dad. Drove my mom nuts. He couldn’t seem to get rid of these
ants.
I know what
you are thinking. You are thinking that we left the cake out and the ants ate
it. Well, you happen to be wrong. That would make too much sense. One of the
tricks that my mom used to outsmart the little pests was to put things in the
microwave and oven. I’m guessing that something was already in the microwave so
my mom put the big plastic container with my globby cake in the oven. Nothing
out of the ordinary, it was how we lived at the time. After a day or so, my mom
was back to normal and it was time to cook dinner. So like any normal person,
she turned the oven on to preheat. I wish I could remember what she was
cooking. All I remember is the smell of melting plastic. We all smelled it. The
problem was, we weren’t sure where it was coming from. Suddenly my mom reached
for the oven and let out a really loud “OH NO!!!” There in the preheated oven
was my cake covered with clear melted plastic. It was a sight. She pulled it
out and immediately looked at me with a sad expression. She had ruined my birthday
cake. Not only was she not able to make it, but she melted it. As far as she
was concerned, she couldn’t apologize enough. I on the other hand, I couldn’t
stop laughing. You see, my mom didn’t mess up too many times. She wasn’t a
perfectionist by definition, but she was “practically perfect in every way.”
She’s my mom. My mom did it all. So, as sad as it is to say, when she made a
boo boo, we kind of thought it was funny. She usually laughed too. This cake
story went down in history. It was retold many times all at her expense. She
said she would make me another cake too and as I retell this story I realized
that she never did. I forgive her, the story was priceless.
So, this
birthday will be bitter sweet. If all goes according to plan, I am going to
spend it with myself. It is my personal policy that no matter where I work, I will
never work on my day. My plan is to go to the movies, eat lunch and shop a bit.
If my mom was here I would ask her to go with me. It was always my mom’s
special day because, “it was the day I had you.”
So it seems
that I had a little bit to say. Nothing profound, no breakthrough, no words of
wisdom. At the end of the day, I guess I can always find something to say.
This is a story that I had not heard. It is funny. Love it. Mom2
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