Self Absorbed . . . As Usual

Dang! It's August 2.

I just remembered that Mary and Rose's birthdays are at the end of July. One is the 25th and one is the 31st, I think. But I can never remember which one is which.

You know, we didn't celebrate birthdays at my house, so they don't have the same meaning for me that they do for others. For years I've let that be my excuse for not making a deal out of them for my friends.

Celebrations in general are a flat edge for me.

I'm sorry Mary. I know it's important to you. Know that I'm thinking about you all the time, even on the day that I forgot was your birthday.

I'm sorry Rose. You bear my burdens with me every day, and you deserve a friend who remembers and celebrates the day you entered this world. If it's any consolation, I remember the day you entered my life - January 19, 1979.