An Extra Special Birthday Card

So I got some cards in the mail. I love that.

Why? Because it is something from the heart. If you know me well, I am not a fancy gal, and I like simple or handmade things.

So thanks to you all who sent cards to me! So sweet of you! They are up on the mantlepiece!

But a card came in the mail today...

Of course it was addressed to me.

But it was in a handwriting that's identical to my own.

It was enough to make me pause, because I was thinking "Did I send a piece of mail to myself?"

Then I thought, there is only one other person I know who has a penmanship that is identical to my own.

And that is the person that taught me to write in cursive as a child.

My mother.

Hmm...

She sent a card for my birthday.

That was interesting. Why? Because we stopped calling each other or sending each other stuff for our birthdays. I think it felt so doggone fake to both of us.

Then there was that time that I sent her a gift card for Christmas (uh, before gift cards became popular to give, before people knew what they were).  She got pissed at me. This upset my brother and sister terribly.

And you know me...

Anyway, she sent a card.  With $5 in it.

I sort of felt bad for her. My sister was over for my birthday and I wanted to say, "Could you give this back to her?? She shouldn't give me money. She needs her money."

But I didn't. And part of me thinks it would've caused some type of drama...

And you know me...

And she wrote a poem:

And you know me...

Man... you know how tough I am.

But that? That brought tears to my eyes. That was very touching indeed. I will put that in my journal.

Yes, I know my mother loves me. And I love my mother. But wow... Let's just say, I am trying to help my sister, who is the good white sheep of the family, stay in relationship with my mother. Because I know she needs it. I need it to, but I have had so many surrogate mothers over the years that I usually depend on that.

I know my sister, when she comes over all drained and exasperated over yet another fall out with our mother, is tired of me hollering "My Mama, PlayMama lives over in Alabama!  I don't have to deal with that craziness! And I'm sorry you are living the hard knock life, baby! Not I! Not I!"*lee pointing in the direction of alabama*

But this card. That was a wonderful card and a nice poem. My sister said she is working on some things. I think she is. Good for her.

I am suppose to go to the tree and buy trouser socks. For some reason, any gift she sends my way contains trouser socks. I don't wear trouser socks. I only own 2 pair of snearkers and 3 pair of black shoes and a few pairs of flip flops. Trouser socks don't work out for me. But I graciously accept them. I may need trouser socks some day.

And I will cherish this card. It represents "normal" to me.

This card makes me think she thinks of me in a positive manner. That card is going into my journal. I will even leave the $5 bill in there. Looks like she took extra care to tape it very neatly to the card anyway.

I told my sister "Gal, tell her I said thank you."

"Okay," she said.

"Well, never mind. I think I may just call her up and talk to her and tell her myself."

"She would really like that," my sister said. She nodded. "She really would."

"I sure think I will."

Nothing dramatic about that, right?

Nope.

I think it will be a good conversation.