Tuesday, December 15, 2015

Crying over Turkeys

I guess I should probably write something.  I feel not only like I've been neglecting my poor blog, but also my poor readers - should there still be any.  This time of year, as I'm sure everyone knows, is not only hectic, but frustrating, stressful, and - for many - sad.  Yes, I said sad.

Today would have been my mother's birthday.  Mary Pamela Nolton Greening.  Born on December 15, 1947.  She would have been 68 years old.  (I think I've got all that right.)  I've written about her before on this blog whenever an anniversary comes up - either date of her birth or date of her death - so for those who may have been following me for some time this won't be new information.

Yesterday, I was weepy all day long.  Anything could have set me off.  Even turkeys.  Walking back from the cafeteria to my office I saw some turkeys wandering around in front of my building and, as I got closer I thought, "Those birds are actually kinda beautiful up close," and then proceeded to get all teary-eyed for no reason I could discern.  I did this multiple times (wound up with dripping eyes for no reason) and finally decided I was just annoying myself and went to bed.  I guess it doesn't help that I don't feel 100% right now, either.  I'm sure it's just a cold, but in my "weakened" state, I feel vulnerable...therefore, weepy.  I'll get over it.

It didn't really occur to me until this morning that I must have been subconsciously remembering mom's birthday.  So, though it's been 26 years since she left us for the big playground in the sky, I still get sad.  And, among the discussions of Christmas and trees and decorations and gifts and (as I said before) the me, me, me, mine, mine, mine brand of selfishness this time of year engenders, I think of my mother today and remember the brief 15 years I had with her.

Happy Birthday, Mom.


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