Me and mom are in Seattle on a do-over of the Alaskan cruise clusterfuck this time last year.
We had a meaningful morning meandering a different section of the Pike Place Market than last year and it was just as fun!
Back at the hotel my mom walks into my bedroom and asks me for a pen. Without a thought I hand her a pen from my satchel then ask her if she’d like a pad or a piece of paper to write on. She waved off my prompt. Odd… mom needs a pen to write with but nothing to write on…?
Minutes later I stepped into the kitchen of our suite to grab lunch when there she was at the desk in the living room writing out a greeting card…
…my birthday is tomorrow…
…then I was thunderstruck by the lightning of laziness and engulfed in guilt.
Precisely one year ago my mom gave me a birthday card in the City of Seattle. That card sits sealed in its envelope today.
It’s buried in a pile of papers mentally labeled as “important enough to get to…eventually.”
Oddly enough, she gave me the card minutes before a weekly LegalShield team meeting. This week’s meeting is 40 minutes away.
It hit me like the ton of bricks it rightfully is; my mom went out of her way to get to the store, carefully and thoughtfully select the best birthday card to suit, hand write a warm note from her heart, seal the envelope and see to it I got that mighty missive precisely on time.
My mom’s birthday is just days from mine. She turns 80. How many more birthday cards can she give me? Never enough is my mindless, emotional answer. The only sensible thing to do is cherish every scrap of paper she gives me – be it birthday card, shopping list or rudimentary reminder.
Tomorrow I break the cycle of selfishness. I‘ll receive her card and open it instantly and smile. Then hug my mom.
It bothers me I got so “busy” with what amounts to bullshit while the most important things get brushed aside.
Never again.
When we return home I’ll excavate last year’s birthday card as my first order of business. I’ll open it. I’ll cherish it. Then give me mum another big hug though she might wonder why.