I loved my friend Callies, which said: Inside every 30 year old is an 18 year old asking “What happened?”
I loved Callies husbands text: Happy Birthday, ya ol’ bag a bones.
I loved Taras handwritten note: Glad you’re going first.
I loved that my husband bought me an incredibly conservative dress from Nordstrom which he deemed “age-appropriate” and we laughed and laughed.
But the card that got me good was the one from my mom.
Although it didn’t make fun of me. It didn’t say I was old.
In her beautiful handwriting, the front of the envelope read: 10,950 days
The card mentioned that not a day goes by that she doesn’t’ think about me, care about me and wish good things for me.
Inside, I found this:
My eyes got misty because I think about how I feel about my own daughter, now four. I know the feeling of always holding on to someone in your heart. And I only have 1,460 days of this down…. My mom has me beat by so many!
Some people said “Happy Birthday, Sarah” but the truth is, “Way to go, Robin!” on surviving 10,950 days of newborn cries, toddler antics, first days of school, sick days, family vacations, teenager rebellion, college term paper editing, a wedding and a pregnancy and a grandchild birth.
Sheesh, I think maybe SHES the one who deserves the card.
