Today is my birthday. Sixty three years old, or so the birth certificate says. My mom agrees–back in 1957 she gave birth to her first little baby some time just after 1 a.m. She doesn’t remember the exact time, and the birth certificate doesn’t say, so we’ll never know if Pluto was aligned in Cancer or other astrological fortunes.
I do not know how I feel yet this morning. A little happy, a little sad. Gray clouds weight the sky above our woods. Barry’s headed off to work at the newspaper and I’m alone for the day. I don’t mind being alone. Am not sure why some gray clouds are scudding about in my mood so early this morning, but surely they will dissipate to reveal blue birthday skies before too long.
My dear friend (and blog reader!) Susan posted the following picture on Facebook just after these 63 year old eyes popped open. It was taken two years ago when she stopped over for lunch. Barry was fishing at Isle Royale and Susan and I laughed and giggled like two teenagers. I may have even danced in the kitchen. Or so the following picture reveals.
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