Mom's Birthday

Today my mother would have turned 61.

Last year, two days after her 60th birthday, she died at home just as the sun was coming up. It was the cruelest light I'd ever known.

For the past year I've walked around with an unparalleled emptiness. This morning I took that emptiness and forced myself awake early to take a walk. After a few blocks, when my ears were ice cold, I realized that I'd once again left my winter hat at home. Then I remembered how angry my mother used to get when I didn't dress properly in cold weather.

Just then, I heard a young mother across the street struggling with her son in his stroller:

"You have to keep your hat on."
"No."
"It's cold."
"No."
"Do you want munchkins?"
"Yes!"
"Then you have to keep your hat on."
"No."
"Then you can't have munchkins. Do you want munchkins?"
"Yes."
"Then you keep your hat on."
"No."

I hope he kept his hat on, not only because munchkin donuts are delicious (especially when you're two), but also because his mother just wanted him to be warm and safe.

Today, I'm reminded of all the sacrifices parents make for their children. All the energy, all the love, all the care. Sometimes we don't realize these things until it's impossible to go back and say "thank you." Today, if you're lucky enough to still have your mom, thank her. Thank her for yourself. Thank her for me.

And for god's sake, wear at hat. It's cold outside.