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Tuesday, Jan 25th, 2005 - 01:06AM




It’s that day again…

I dug these out of the photo album my mom obsessively compiled throughout my childhood. And don’t think these are the only birthday pictures I have. Not a chance. Dozens from every birthday up to the age of eight, meticulously mounted in my 12 X12 pink and gold childhood album.

My mom was never without one of her many cheap, plastic cameras. Clearly genetic. And she always wrote with Sharpees. (As exhibited in her transcriptions). Can’t help but view this evidence that apples don’t fall too far from that good old family tree.

When I was a sixteen, I began a tradition of sending my mom a birthday card on my birthday, since I never understood why we were celebrating my life if she did all the work by giving birth to me. I didn’t realize it then, but I suspect I did this as a thank you for all the special birthdays she made for me when I was a wee thing. Don’t get me wrong. Growing up in my home was as far from a Brady Bunch experience as it could be. But the one thing my mom always succeeded doing was make sure we felt special on our birthdays.

I think I’ll go send her a card.
She can’t get it on the other side, but she’ll know.



Posted by Susan B.
Archived under: Vintage
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