It is Friday night, the 18th of September, the night before your birthday. It’s almost numbing to me to think that you are 27 years old. I remember when you were still a little girl (maybe 6 or so) and I used to read the Metropolitan Section of the New York Times and I found that poem of a mother talking to her daughter who was turning 18. It was so beautiful that I cut it out and put it into my journal to save for you when you turned 18; it felt like it would be so long before that day would come. But, before long, in an instant, it seemed, I did give it to you on your 18th birthday. I hope you still have it.
I looked in the card store today to find a card for you and I realized that since I am writing this blog, I might as well write you a card. Of course I bought that funny card with my recorded voice singing on it. I hope you like it and keep it just like the poem.
It’s coincidental that it’s the night before the first day of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. You were born on the second day of Rosh Hashanah. I had eaten my second holiday dinner at your grandma’s house and I didn’t think there was room for you in my belly anymore after all that Jewish cooking. Daddy and I went to Meryl and Steve’s apartment before we went home and I was saying how full I was and Meryl took out her step stool and made me walk up and down to try to induce me into labor. It was quite funny when I called her at 12:30am to tell her my water broke after I went to bed that same night. That was also an experience; we had a black Celica package and Daddy was so nervous that I would ruin the seats. He made me sit on towels on the way to the hospital, the same hospital you pass every day now on your way to work. You were three weeks early. We hadn’t even painted your room yet and didn’t order the layette. We were not ready. But you were. At 8:04am, you arrived, not even eight hours of labor. When they finally put you in my arms, the whole world changed for me. I felt that my sole purpose on earth now was to protect you. I have never been so overwhelmed and overjoyed at once. Don’t think for a minute now that just because you’re getting married and “leaving me” that my instinct to protect you will ever dissipate. And there isn’t a Hallmark card that I’ve seen so far that says anything like that.
Now that you’re getting married and it’s less than a year away, I am reliving the feeling of being overwhelmed and overjoyed simultaneously. Last night we went to measure you for your wedding dress. Each time you put it on you look more and more beautiful. We glanced at each other knowing what we were both thinking when the other bride came out in the dress that was beautiful on top, but looked as though she fell into a chicken coup on the bottom with all those feathers. I said she could always use that dress as a feather duster after she gets married. After that girl, was the pregnant one, who had on the “maternity” wedding gown. It was a fun night. Then I turned to you and said, “What do you want for your birthday?” “My wedding dress,” you answered with a little glint in your eyes. Well, you’ll never forget what you got from me on your 27th birthday, that’s for sure.
It’s so easy to have Hallmark say it all for you and then just pay $4.00 and sign your name. It’s not so easy to say what you really feel…how magnificence and fragility can coexist when you think about your children.
I will always think of you, first, as that tiny little pink bundle in my arms and how I felt as if I were holding the universe.
I will always be in awe of your energy and confidence.
I will always be sure that you will find a way to succeed in everything or anything you do.
I will always be here for you
I will always adore you
I will always love you
forever and ever and ever
Have a Wonderful Year
Happy 27th Birthday
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