Today is my mom’s 82nd birthday.
This is her when she was 19. She’s in Prospect Park, in Brooklyn, on a date with my dad, wearing trousers because Katharine Hepburn did.
This is the first birthday in 60 years she’ll spend without my dad. I can’t even begin to imagine how that could be, but I love her, and I love that she is getting stronger and living (mostly) on her own. She told me recently that she’s met with some of the other widows in her little community, and that she thinks she can do it.
Which goes to show, for the billionth time, that people will, and do, surprise you in ways you never expected.
This one is me and her when we visited her in Florida in December last year.
Happy Birthday, Mom!
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