Today is my birthday.
My mother’s voice sings,
“Happy Birthday” from my voice-mail.
When I was a child, she said
“You don’t get older until someone
sings the song,” and I
fight the absurd urge to shout,
“Stop! You’re making me older!”
***
Such is the weight of a mother’s words.
My sons sing, “Happy Birthday” to me,
their three wee voices
intertwined in disharmonic joy, and I
clap, joyful…thankful, with
the weight of my power coiled peacefully,
for now, in my gut.
**
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Happy Birthday!
thank you!
Happy birthday! So if I get through the day and no one sings to me, I don’t get older? Cool…I should try that this year 🙂
I know, right? And thank you!