Photo: Zevtron
We're a year older now. My daughter and me. I'm 12 months shy of 50 and, at 15, she's smack dab -- almost -- in the middle of her teens. My midsection is now sporting the copious amounts of ice cream consumed during our birthday week....And, the following are a few reflections written in my journal the morning of my big day:
"I capped off my exciting and awkward 20s by merging into marriage. Maneuvered through my formative 30s as a married woman. And launched into my early 40s by becoming a single woman again. As I rush toward the end of that fourth decade, I'm about to plunge into my 50's and start all over as a married woman again." (Okay, truth be known, I don't write quite that smoothly when I'm journaling at 6 a.m.)
I never realized how much I'd miss my mother on my birthday. "Wow," I wrote. "It's my first birthday without my mother living. The thought of that is sad. And powerful. Mother -- I do miss you.
"Love,
"Leisa."
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