I often celebrate deceased family birthdays by having lunch at a favorite salad bar and remembering our shared days of long ago. Being the oldest of eight, I remember all my siblings from their babyhood. The oldest memory of my sister, Adeline is a fleeting moment when she was a tiny baby and Mom had just finished giving her a bath. I remember Mickey as a small baby sitting in his highchair at breakfast as Mom and Dad fed him milk from a cup and calling it coffee. My earliest memory of Charles is as a baby wrapped in a blanket being held on Mom’s lap as we rode in an automobile. I saw Elbert the morning after his birth as he was lying in a baby buggy beside Mom’s bed. I recall baby Esther lying on a pillow when Mom brought her from the bedroom to the living room to show her to a neighbor. I watched Richard as he learned to walk, and I held Jerry when he was still a newborn.
I used to remember the years each was born and their ages as they grew older, but these days, I have to re-calculate the years and age by starting with mine. I don’t remember many of the celebrations but I seem to remember occasions when someone blew out candles on a cake. My own birthday must not have been a priority for me to remember because I can only recall two, and have forgotten my birthday at least 3 or 4 times. In all honesty though, now that I’ve reached the age of 87, I take note and heave a sigh of relief that I’ve added another year to my life. As the saying goes, living is better than the alternative!!!!
Happy Birthday!
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