Yesterday. June ninth. My mother’s birthday.
I didn’t celebrate. I didn’t mention it to anybody. I didn’t put it up on Facebook. But she knows I remember. Always remember.
I like to picture her there in Heaven, surrounded by cats and flowers and her family that had gone before. When she died, I dreamed she told me she was cold. With all those cats gathered around her, I know she can’t be cold anymore.
Say her name: Mary Elizabeth Kable Rubin. She is always with me. A photo on the dresser; a journal on the shelf. We were close; memories abound.
Happy Birthday, Mommy.