Reflections and Memories on What Would Have Been My Mother's Birthday

Today — January 26th — would have been my mother's birthday, had she still been alive. She would have been 101 years old today... a number that makes me realize that I am also getting a bit long in the tooth!

Of course, she has long since passed away. Interestingly enough, I expect I will always remember her birthday, but it's likely that I will have to look up the day she died until they put me in the grave.

Mrs. Denmarkguy and I talked a bit about that over our morning coffee, and noted that perhaps we are just more likely to remember moments of happiness, rather than moments of tragedy.

As I have written previously, my mother and I weren't really close, a situation that was exacerbated by the fact that for the last 10 years of her life, she and my stepdad moved back to the south of Spain where they lived many years ago... selling their house in Mesa, Arizona... and sending most of their "stuff" my way.

This is the same "stuff" I frequently allude to organizing and selling on eBay, by the way, Well, at least some of it.

When they still lived there, I often went to Phoenix around the time of my mom's birthday. It was one of the few times of the year I actually didn't mind visiting that part of the world.

They were funny people, in a way. In spite of claiming to be ready to retire to a simple life in a golf course condo, they ended up buying a piece of land in the orange groves and building a house... in their late 60's. It was a lovely place, and sitting in the middle of the scent of orange blossoms was a wonderful experience.

On the other hand, their location put them inconveniently far from the golf club their belonged to, in a way — I suppose — giving them something to complain about all the time... along with complaining about the fact that they just didn't get to play golf as much as they wanted to.

I suppose we create the lives our subconscious ultimately wants...

People sometimes ask me what I miss about my mother... and typically the only thing I really settle on is "spending time with her in the kitchen," perhaps because food — and the cooking of food — was pretty much the only thing we connected over, without bumping heads.

Even though we came from the same blood, we had vastly different value systems... and even though friends assured me (at the time) that I would become much more like them as I age, I see these decades later that I am still pretty much nothing like them.

They subscribed to a sort of "old school self-involvement" I just never could see eye-to-eye... a sort of well-meaning "give us ours, and to hell with everyone else" mindset. I'm by no means a "hairy liberal," but the lack of compassion and consideration for others was sometimes mindblowing, as was the blatant racism. Think the British imperialists in India...

But let us not speak ill of the dead...

And so...

And so, I sit here on my mother's 101st birthday, thinking back on a life. When she died, she was the last living relative I had from her generation... and I experienced a momentary sensation of being an orphan, in some strange interpretation of the world.

It wasn't case of missing her, nor a case of feeling lonely, but more a sense of feeling disconnected from everything, like a balloon, untethered.

Of course, we always have the memories. And — as the years roll on by — I tend to most recall the good ones. In the kitchen, mostly. I think we would likely have cooked salmon... and then a French apple tart for dessert.

Happy Birthday, Mom!

Thanks for stopping by, and have a great Friday!

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Created at 2023-01-26 23:54 PST
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