
According to my Oracle calendar, tomorrow is my mom's birthday. Her birthday is wedged between two meeting reminders, slightly emphasized by a different font color.
Long before calendars lived within the ethers of the internet, I owned a personal calendar before I ever knew what a check book was all about. Much to my chagrin, I picked up a friend's checkbook thinking it was her calendar. Oops! I loved when October rolled around and my friends were hocking personal calendars in the throes of fundraising. Would the new year call for bears, balloons or galloping horses -- how would year 19xx be defined?
Personal calendars were a necessity for the odd way my brain catalogues information. I would be an ideal police witness.
Detective: Could you please describe the man?
Me: He was 6'2", medium build, short brown hair...the color of chestnuts. Dark brown eyes...he smelled like Clorox mixed with Glade Strawberry Essence. And he was wearing a thin red sweater that looked like something you'd buy at Old Navy. His jeans were a totally different story. They were a cheap bootcut, dark denim with two small worn areas on the left knee. Oh, and this wasn't the first time I saw this man. I remember seeing him over a year ago at Dairy Queen. He had a full beard and wore khakis...
Detective: Seriously, you remember what he wore last year?
Me: Yes, seriously, I do.
Ok, so why would someone who has this kind of memory need a calendar? It's odd...I have a hard time retaining dates and times. I would have rocked History 101 so much more if I have wrapped my mind around dates.
So luckily calendar usage is super in vogue...
Which brings me back to Mom's birthday.
When she was alive, I could never remember her birthday. I knew it was in mid-February. My best friend's birthday was also in mid-February, so mid-February was on my radar, just nothing specific.
My mom is no longer here and now I'm left with this weird side effect of waking up every morning counting down the days to her birthday (February 19th). Unlike every other date of importance (holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, Cinco de Mayo), I no longer need a reminder for my mom's birthday. Unlike a non-sensical RGB hex color value, her eyes, her voice and what she wore the day I was married, are the things that have added the emphasis that no calendar can provide.
So tomorrow I will wake up, make a quick visit to the chiropractor, attend some meetings and eat dinner with Jonathan and some friends. It will be a typical day for me with the exception that I will use my lunch hour to buy my mom some flowers for her grave site.
Mom, if you can hear me, let me be the first one to wish you a happy birthday. I love you.