Forgotten

The older I get, the more I forget. I forget where I put things. I forget people's names. I forget more than I want to admit. So I do not begrudge anyone who forgets stuff.
One thing I never forgot was my mother's birthday. Even the year it was on the day before my wedding and I had a million other things on my mind.
I had my first and only birthday party when I was fifty years old. My daughter and my husband surprised me. It was a thrilling occasion for so many reasons - just one is that some dear friends who had moved to Tennessee, were at the party.
This year I call the forgotten birthday.
I have three brothers, the oldest of whom is known for his always remembering and sending birthday cards -he did not send me a card this year. (The other two did remember and send cards)
In his own way, my husband John did remember, because he had bought me a gift. That morning it just took him about an hour to get awake and aware enough to remember what day it was and bring out the gift and birthday greetings.
My youngest son got up, and left for college classes without a mention of birthday. By the time he returned from class a couple of hours later, he remembered and wished me a happy birthday.
John and Mike took me out for a nice dinner at a local restaurant to celebrate.
My older son, who also lives with us, got up and went to work. He returned after work and got ready to leave again. He called me at about 9:00pm finally remembering and wishing me a Happy Birthday.
That weekend, John, John III and I went up to my daughter's and we went to eat at a local seafood place to celebrate again.
At first I felt bad that they forgot their mother's birthday. I began to get into that mindset of "you are not worth it", "you are not important", "you are not loved". But I quickly overcame those messages by remembering how my birthday started.
The phone rang. It was my precious little grandson saying Happy Birthday, Grammy; and then singing me the Happy Birthday song. It just doesn't get any better than that.