Birthday Eve Bit

My father, Big Daddy Don, as a friend could call him, passed away in October 2001. I think about my Sweet Daddy every day. Today was no different. Bittersweet, really.

You see, back in the day, I tried to make it back to Iowa for my Birthday and if I didn't, Dad and I would be on the phone. One of our rituals--that and Cheeseburger Hamburger Helper. We would sit and wait for TVLand or some channel to play an Andy Griffith episode. We both hoped Barney Fife would be in it. And I would ask Dad, "So what's tomorrow?" Not to miss a beat Dad would say, "Trash day!"

I'd whine "Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaddddddddddddddeeee!" and we'd both laugh. Then I'd ask, "So what were you doing x-years ago today?"

If we were on the phone I knew Dad's eyes would shine as he shifted that infamous King Edward cigar to the other side of his mouth--then his smile would start. Dad would replay how he waited for Mom to have me. He waited impatiently and also in fear. My parents didn't have any other children, in fact they had experienced four stillborn before me. The doctor advised this should be their last try. Mom couldn't handle much more. And then Dad would tell me how I arrived at 4:30 am and the nurse came running down the hall with a wailing 7 pound 14 ounce me and said, "Don,we got us a girl!!" I was headed to a incubator. I was born with one ear, called microtia, so questions abound--time answered them all. :)

I miss the re-telling of my birth. .

I miss getting a phone call at 4:30AM to wish me Happy Birthday.

And I miss the storyteller.

Sometimes, right before I fall asleep, I swear a hint of cigar smoke tickles my nose.

I am blessed.

Week Before Christmas

It's Friday. So glad. A cat hollers--which means some kind of attention needed Cats need to get a job. Their litter doesn't grow on trees--well--hmm.

I could go on about work. How I still wonder how I grew to be one of the older statesmen on my team. Just when did I cross from the Eternity Lake of my 20's to Put on Reading Glasses to Read Ingredients on Food Carton Pool? More angry at myself I'm in this situation. Which I just need to crush the cycle. I do think think I disappointed one of the young ladies today that I didn't want to thrust the peace sign with my fingers and say, "Peace out, yo." I choose not to be the cool mom who hangs out with her daughters' chums. When did the grown up stuff really begin?

Tish tosh. That's a topic for another day.

Hey, it's a week before Christmas. And I want to hear Nat King Cole sing a song that so reminds me of Christmas memories with my Dad. I've not been back to Iowa, for Christmas, since 2001. Two months after his passing. I miss it at times--yet I went home to spend that time with him. Now his spirit spends Christmas in my heart--everyday.

Cue up Nat.