Happy Birthday to Mom!
We were all chatting about the summer we spent in California.
“That was ‘83,” I said.
“I don’t remember,” Mom said.
Yet I asked her if she remembered the flight we took that year.
She laughed.
I remember it like it was yesterday.
It was just me and Mom flying out because I’d just finished my first year of college, and she was going with me for a visit. She’d return a week later to ride out the school year with the others.
We got stuck in Chicago for a few hours (flights delayed).
“Let’s get a drink,” Mom said.
(I was legal to drink at 18).
Some 5 hours later we met Dad at the San Francisco airport.
“What the hell?” Dad asked when he saw us. “You two are pissed up!”
We had laughed hard all day.
Then, of course, the famous first trip over the Golden Gate Bridge.
Just as we got on the bridge, Mom opened the window and flicked what was left of her cigarette out the window...
...and straight into the backseat where I was sitting, and where it instantly came into contact with some papers on the floor.
The smoke was worse than the fire.
Yet, I missed the entire first trip across as I stomped out the papers.
“Two idiots,” Dad called out.
My Mom’s strength has always amazed all of us.
She plays bingo with Kathy these days and then comes over for pasta.
We kick around the old stories, and laugh, and the tears can fill her eyes at a moment’s notice...
...but she’s had a good time.
She remembered the drinks in Chicago, and Dad’s first impression of us when we stepped off the plane.
“He was pissed!”
We laughed.
“We always had a good time.”
Yeah, we did.
Happy Birthday, Mom!
(J.C. Too!)
“That was ‘83,” I said.
“I don’t remember,” Mom said.
Yet I asked her if she remembered the flight we took that year.
She laughed.
I remember it like it was yesterday.
It was just me and Mom flying out because I’d just finished my first year of college, and she was going with me for a visit. She’d return a week later to ride out the school year with the others.
We got stuck in Chicago for a few hours (flights delayed).
“Let’s get a drink,” Mom said.
(I was legal to drink at 18).
Some 5 hours later we met Dad at the San Francisco airport.
“What the hell?” Dad asked when he saw us. “You two are pissed up!”
We had laughed hard all day.
Then, of course, the famous first trip over the Golden Gate Bridge.
Just as we got on the bridge, Mom opened the window and flicked what was left of her cigarette out the window...
...and straight into the backseat where I was sitting, and where it instantly came into contact with some papers on the floor.
The smoke was worse than the fire.
Yet, I missed the entire first trip across as I stomped out the papers.
“Two idiots,” Dad called out.
My Mom’s strength has always amazed all of us.
She plays bingo with Kathy these days and then comes over for pasta.
We kick around the old stories, and laugh, and the tears can fill her eyes at a moment’s notice...
...but she’s had a good time.
She remembered the drinks in Chicago, and Dad’s first impression of us when we stepped off the plane.
“He was pissed!”
We laughed.
“We always had a good time.”
Yeah, we did.
Happy Birthday, Mom!
(J.C. Too!)
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