mom

Mom would have been 90 tomorrow.
I turned 50 last fall.
It's like there were two generations between us in age. I grew up with a white haired mother, literally. Oh, except later on when she was my age now, she got her driver's license and went out and got some dye and colored it hazel and other brown tones.
If she were still here, I'd get her some pink roses, her favorite flower color. A whole dozen. Plus some miniature live rose bushes too. And something good to eat. I'd take her to a performance of music or something at the high school. She'd get all teary eyed, and I would too. She'd be so happy to see young people get up and do something like that, perform a song, or act in a play.
We would have started the day going for a walk, seeing all the flowering trees, she'd love it here.
I guess since her ashes are in the Pacific, and the waters of the Pacific are less than two miles from here, maybe she is enjoying it here.
Happy birthday mom, I love you.