There was a birthday, naturally. It was quite a lengthy celebration, with days, dates observed, parties, dinners, endlessness.
But now it has ended, this one, for 2015, anyway.
When the children were v young, I would tell them how daffodils & crocuses were for her birthday, hyacinth & tulips for his. Well, two years in a row now the weather is not compliant, which is fine bc florist services.
One hundred daffodils are fun to jam into a vase. We'll see what happens with the next anniversaire. (Maybe nothing since no one cares, is what Mari & I are told, ceaselessly.)
There is a gorgeous, baleful, mandolin-accompanied arrangement of Song for Zula Kowalski laid on me last week.
"It reminds me of you," he said.
"That song is every feeling I have ever had about being a mother," I confessed to him.
I know, you had no idea I was so completely fucked-up. Well anyhow you knew already I am shameless anyway. Je demeure xoxox