October is a month loaded with birthdays in our family — fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, boyfriends, aunts, uncles — today is my dad’s 85th, so despite the pouring rain, we went off to breakfast first thing this morning, and one thing I learned the hard way is never reveal that it’s my dad’s birthday when you are out to eat. That was a lesson learned a few years ago, and I will NEVER make that mistake again. For some reason, regardless of how old we are, why do we still feel like kids with our parents? Can we ever be anything else?
My birthday was the 13th. I’d love a phone call or tea date with you sweet lady.