When you read this, my dear friends, my sweetie and I will be celebrating my birthday on the beach in Mexico. The Birthday Girl sends you sunny white-sand and turquoise water greetings!
Two other things I’d like to share with you today: First, it feels a little crazy to fly to Cancun so recently after my job lay-off. Although I’m having a blast developing my freelance communications business, the money isn’t exactly flowing on streets of gold . . . yet.
Since the business is brand new and ripe with opportunities, I’ve decided to have fun growing it. I’m also trying an experiment: For the first time in my life, I’m looking at this new chapter like it’s a Fun and Fabulous Game.
Why not? Mom always said I could do anything I wanted with my life, so why not create this portion without worry and fret, free from doom and gloom and an “oh-my-god-what-if-this-tragedy-happens” mindset?
We’re going to play the penultimate game of Act As If. Have you ever played the game? You’re welcome to join me if you like!
The second birthday share
Since my mom passed away nearly three years ago, springtime and my birthday are kind of bittersweet. Mom’s birthday is exactly four weeks after mine and this year, Mother’s Day is two days before her birthday.
I vividly recall April 16, 2010, the last year of her life, when we spoke. I was in Key West and read aloud the birthday card she and Dad sent while we talked on the phone. I’m sure she said to me what she said every year, that I was her beautiful little girl.
Mom died two months after that birthday greeting.
In honor of the woman who gave me this Fun and Fabulous Gift of Life, I’d like to share with you a poem that my sweetie sent me a few days after Mom’s death. It was originally published on this blog in late July 2010.
Please enjoy. I’m taking the rest of the week off and will see you back here next Monday.
Your Mother is Always With You, author unknown
Your mother is always with you…
She’s the whisper of the leaves
as you walk down the street.
She’s the smell of bleach in
your freshly laundered socks.
She’s the cool hand on your
brow when you’re not well.
Your mother lives inside
your laughter. She’s crystallized
in every tear drop…She’s the place you came from,your first home. She’s the map youfollow with every step that you take.She’s your first love and your first heartbreak….and nothing on earth can separate you.Not time, Not space…Not even death….will ever separate youfrom your mother….You carry her inside of you….