Cake and Crazy Cat Slippers!

I celebrated my birthday this past week and I am still in the throes of a birthday buzz.  This euphoria is owed, not to presents, confetti and steamers, but to my mother.  She had an uncanny ability to make her day of giving birth to me an extraordinary one, beginning with a rousing rendition of "Happy Birthday," which she sang in her operatic soprano voice, throwing her hands up in the air when finished, as I clapped endlessly, until she took her bow.

Dinner and dessert was my choice, a rarity in my mother's strictly monitored kitchen domain.  I have little recollection of my dining selection, but I do remember with great clarity, my mouth watering at the thought, her moist yellow cake and sweet shiny white icing.  It would give Magnolia Bakery a run for its money.

At some point during the day I would hear the story of her laboring during a snow storm, my father arriving from a trip, delirious, with a feverish flu and a friend taking her to the hospital, while my father napped at home, unaware of my impending appearance.

It is no secret my relationship with my mother was fraught with minefields, impossible to navigate, but on birthday's all was merry and bright.  And even during our years apart, a gift would arrive in the mail, no matter where I was. As she grew older her go to presents became anything cat.  Cat sweatshirts, cat earrings, cat socks, cat stationary, all making me cringe, but, it is the thought that counts.

It has been four years since my mother passed, but on the morning of my birth I remember those moments and a wave of emotion comes over me. It is not sadness that I recall, but joy and I think how much I would enjoy a crazy cat shirt or slippers right about now.

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