Penny Lane Turns Two

Penny is an absolute spark plug. She is sweet, she says “night night” and blows kisses. She is funny and loves to make us laugh. She is loud and knows how to push any of us, or all of us around. She is not only smart, she is clever. She can repeat an action she has seen only once. But only if she so desires. 

She is nothing but light, energy, (and a little bit of exhaustion) in our lives. And yet, her birthday arrives once again with messy feelings. 

I think of parents who have lost children and I wonder how selfish I am to be mourning when no one has died. 

But I am. 

I am mourning the mother I could have been. The kind of mother I was with the big kids. I mourn the mother she deserved. The bond that was stolen from us. I mourn for one who should have raised her. The one who left after 37 years, 11 months, and 22 days. 

I think everyone around here misses that mother. 

Penny’s birthday is a reminder that I was once sublimely happy. An amplifier of the guilt I carry with me. An opportunity to reflect with confusion, bitterness, and relief. 

An opportunity nonetheless.