My daughter and her friend...
"Want some of my mom's birthday cake?
"Sure! It's your mom's birthday?"
"It was yesterday."
"How old is she?"
"WHOA! That's OLD!"
Ouch! That conversation made me wince a little bit but then I remembered that when I was 10 years old, thirty seemed practically geriatric! And 60? Well, you may as well change your name to Methuselah because you were practically a freak of nature for making it to that old of an age.
I had a good birthday. I got a watch and some funny cards. I spent some time with friends and came home with a sore belly from laughing so hard. I went out for sushi with my hubs and got plenty of hugs, gifts, texts, and Facebook shout outs. All in all, I felt pretty loved.
Still, I couldn't help but feel disappointed that my dad (biological) didn't called me. It shouldn't really be a surprise. He hasn't called me in over two years. It's not expected but it's one of those things that just makes my day when he remembers me and I always hope he will call. Isn't that silly? That I'm thirty seven and still, my heart jumped a little bit every time the phone rang because there was a possibility that my daddy would call? Kind of sad if you ask me.
It's a total waste of time to go there. I've been to that place before and it leads to nowhere. It's what Dr. Seuss calls "The Waiting Place."
"…for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come, or a plane to go or the mail
to come, or the rain to go or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow or
waiting around for a Yes or a No or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting. Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite or waiting around for
Friday night or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake or a pot to boil,
or a Better Break or a sting of pearls, or a pair of pants or a wig
with curls, or Another Chance."
Nah, I don't want to waste my time waiting. I waited for too long and that waiting place is purgatory, a trap that keeps you from moving upward and being happy. As if he instinctively knew that I was feeling low, my son came and gave me a hug. My boy gives the best kinds of hugs. I've never taken hard drugs so it's just a guess but I'm pretty sure that Carter's hugs feel pretty similar to heroine. The second he wraps his gangly arms around me, I can't help but close my eyes. I feel a happy warmth all over my body and I am limp with ecstasy. I never want it to end. It erases every thought, every feeling and everything around me. I am truly happy. I'm pretty sure that if I started selling his hugs on the street, I could make millions.