This week I turned 55. I'm pretty sure that qualifies me for the senior citizen's discount at some eating establishments now. Aging doesn't bother me. Wrinkles and silver hair are a sign of wisdom. Usually. What bothered me about this birthday is that it's the first one without my mother.
Every year she'd do the stroll down memory lane. Whether I was local or across the Atlantic Ocean, immediately upon seeing or talking to me she would look at the clock and start reminiscing. "This time (insert my age on that birthday) years ago, you were X hours old." It was convenient I was born around 6 am. She'd recount what she, her mother or my father were doing at the hospital. She never failed to remind me that I was the prettiest thing she had ever seen and that she was scared to death of me. She was a young mother at 21 - married at 19 - and had absolutely zero experience with babies. Good thing I was an almost nine pounder, chubby cheeked infant that didn't look particularly fragile.
Every time I've seen these candies in the store this fall, I've thought of my wonderful mother. I can remember clear as if it were yesterday that she put these mellowcreme pumpkins atop cupcakes for my 5th birthday she brought for the class when I was attending Wee Wisdom preschool at the Methodist Church in Woodville, Texas. The mind is a funny thing, how it holds onto memories from 50 years ago while letting me forget what I was going to fetch when I walked from the office to kitchen yesterday. Or maybe it's just that God allows our brains to prioritize holding onto the precious memories while letting go of the inconsequential stuff.
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