Today is my mother's 85th birthday.
Which means I'm old.
Not to focus on me, of course, that was just a passing thought.
She and I have been through an awful lot these past sixty years, seven months and three weeks, and that's not even counting her throwing up constantly and being hospitalized off and on during her pregnancy with me. She said when I left her body the sickness left her, too.
The doctors said there was something in my system she was allergic to.
She's probably felt allergic to me a lot since then, too.
Anyway, we have had plans in the past. Some of them came to fruition, some did not.
We even have big plans right now.
Beans. Lots of beans.
Nothing like a three generational bean fixin to bring a family close together.
Even Husband is in on the thing, having to go get the beans, bring up all the canning jars from the storage room, and maybe being talked into stringin' one or two.
Maybe not.
Tomorrow we have a big trip planned to Dalton to the ENT to hopefully get all four of our ears working better.
And so it goes.
There's lots to be said for day to day living with family.
Happy Birthday, Mother.
May it be a year of plans and family.
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