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Thanksgiving

My Mom would have been 57 years old today. This is the first time since she died that her birthday has coincided with the holiday.

I’m not really sure what more I want to say about this. It felt wrong to let the day go by and not mention it here, so I am. Mom has been on my mind a lot lately. Probably because her birthday was coming up, probably because there are things going on I know I would be talking to her about — Lisa’s trip to Tokyo, how my new job is going, the new Harry Potter movie. Big things and little things.

I think it was six months after she died that I got a cellphone. I remember stopping in the middle of the sidewalk in Downtown Crossing when I thought, I’ll have to give Mom my new number and then realized No, I won’t. I can’t. That was a little thing with big stopping power, at the time.

Then, it would have seemed impossible that her birthday would fall on Thanksgiving and that I would ever be okay. Now, three years later, I enjoyed the quiet, low-key day Lisa and I had together at home. We ate turkey. We watched The Muppet Show, something I remember being allowed to stay up an extra half hour to watch when I was little. We talked to family. It was a good day.

I know I have a lot to be thankful for, and I am.