Today is my beautiful mother’s 64th birthday…
When she had me in 1989, thirteen months after my sister, my father thought she was kidding. They’d been trying to have children for a decade.
She still puts together acquisitions for her overbearing boss and is the glue that holds my fucked up family together.
I know she loves me unconditionally, and I will always be there to stain her house, help pick out paint colors, or rearrange her vast collection of art work.
Even though I can’t be with her because of my radical political beliefs, I’d like her to know I think about her 64 times a day.