Yesterday, I reached a significant milestone in my life—I turned fifty. While I enjoyed spending time with family and friends, there was one person noticeably absent from this momentous occasion: my mother. And so begin the firsts of the firsts.
Yesterday actually marked two firsts: my brother and I were born on our mother’s birthday, making it a double whammy of emotion—our first birthday without her, and her first birthday in heaven.
When my mom’s mind was sharper than it had been in recent years, she would always call me at exactly 11:53 AM to wish me a happy birthday, as that was the time I was born. The conversation was always brief because she had to hang up and call my brother at 11:54 to do the same. If there was one thing I missed most yesterday, it was receiving that call (though, truth be told, those calls stopped about five years ago). Still, it is a sweet memory.
The home screen on my phone is an old family picture taken in Key West, likely in 1976 or 1977, judging by how young I am in it. I cropped the image so that it focuses on just me and my mom. For some reason, I’m looking away from the camera—probably fascinated by a wild chicken or one of Hemingway’s six-toed cats. But that’s beside the point!
Last night, we retired early, and I had trouble falling asleep. So, I did what experts advise against when you can’t sleep—I looked at my phone, not even aware of the time. It was 11:53 PM, and I took a screenshot of the time appearing right above my mother’s head in the photo.
Sure, it may have been just a coincidence, and you could argue that it was evening, not morning, when I was born. But I’d like to think it was my mom wishing me a happy birthday from her new heavenly home.
