Happy Birthday, Mom

It’s that crazy time of year again. The time of year where I wrap up another school year-number seven to be exact. The time of year for Mother’s Day. The time of year where I remember my mom’s diagnosis of lung cancer. The time of year for her birthday.

Happy Birthday, Mom.

You would be 57 today. Hard to believe I celebrated your last birthday eight years ago. Eight years? Really? That’s a whole life time. I don’t even remember that Jessie from eight years ago. Okay, well, maybe I do, a little.

I celebrated your birthday today by eating your favorite pizza, chips, and dip. I even washed it all down with some Pepsi. Well that was the plan anyway. I actually cooked the pizza but after stuffing my face with half of a bag of nacho cheese Doritos dipped in Deans french onion dip, I was a little full. But my family, who most of them have never met you, enjoyed your favorites tonight too.

Happy Birthday, Mom.

I know there are other favorites of yours, but “pizza party party” as you used to say, is my fave memory. Every Friday when you picked me up for our visits, that’s what we ate. We settled in to watch a movie, your favorite thing to do, and ate our pizza. We would lick all the nacho cheese powder off of our fingers with annoying sounds when we were finished. Usually, breakfast the next day was more Doritos. It’s a wonder I didn’t have health issues. But who cares, right? It’s a great memory.

So, Happy Birthday, Mom.

Though I sometimes wish you would visit me, I know that would probably give me nightmares, so it’s okay that you haven’t. But I’m hoping for a really cool dream tonight. Just maybe I’ll meet you there.

To all the momma’s mommying with your momma. Hang in there. You got this.