“Yeah, he gave me the book.” “I can tell you like him,” she said, eyebrows raised,
as if this observation required some uniquely maternal instinct.
I shrugged. “I told you Support Group would be worth your while.”
Did you just wait outside the entire time?” “Yes. I brought some paperwork. Anyway, time to face the day, young lady.
“Mom. Sleep. Cancer. Fighting.” “I know, love, but there is class to attend. Also, today is...”
The glee in Mom’s voice was evident. “Thursday?” “Did you seriously forget?”
“Maybe?” “It’s Thursday, March twenty-ninth!” she basically screamed, a demented smile plastered to her face.
“You are really excited about knowing the date!” I yelled back.
“HAZEL! IT’S YOUR THIRTY-THIRD HALF BIRTHDAY!” “Ohhhhhh,” I said.
My mom was really super into celebration maximization. IT’S ARBOR DAY! LET’S HUG TREES AND EAT CAKE!
COLUMBUS BROUGHT SMALLPOX TO THE NATIVES; WE SHALL RECALL THE OCCASION WITH A PICNIC!, etc.
“Well, Happy thirty-third Half Birthday to me,” I said. “What do you want to do on your very special day?”
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