A Birthday Story
Jul. 19th, 2006 06:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
teleribMarch 12, 1981. I am four and a half years old; my sister is three. We babble loudly in the background for the rest of the story.
My mother awakens with the dim sense that it is her birthday. "Happy Birthday," my father tells her. "Oh, thank you," she says.
The phone rings. It is her old roommate and best friend, my godmother, calling to wish her a happy birthday.
"Thank you!" she says again. "I can't believe it. 29! Just one more year to go until 30."
My father overhears this. He walks over to her, gently puts a hand on her shoulder. "Gerry," he says quietly, "you were 29 last year. You're 30 this year."
My mother turns 30 straight from 28. "Nooo!"
My mother awakens with the dim sense that it is her birthday. "Happy Birthday," my father tells her. "Oh, thank you," she says.
The phone rings. It is her old roommate and best friend, my godmother, calling to wish her a happy birthday.
"Thank you!" she says again. "I can't believe it. 29! Just one more year to go until 30."
My father overhears this. He walks over to her, gently puts a hand on her shoulder. "Gerry," he says quietly, "you were 29 last year. You're 30 this year."
My mother turns 30 straight from 28. "Nooo!"
