Birthdays are the worst days. 💧

The house was warm and cozy, and the wafting aroma of rendering bacon fat added a delicious dimension into my Disney inspired dream. Suddenly I was awoken by a familiar tune, “Laura it’s your birthday, wake up!” I could hear my ever-energized and loving mother approaching. “Happy Birthday Laura,” she sang in increasing frequencies as she pranced up the stairs and rounded the corner for my room. I started to open my eyes when ‘click,’ the lights turned on.

The childhood memory of my mother faded out, and reality set in like a building thunderstorm on a sticky Florida afternoon. Happy feelings collided with endless tears and I was struck with a lightning bolt of emotion.

I will never get to see her again. Feel the scratch of her wool sweater as she rips the blankets off of me. Hear the ever so comforting sound of her boots coming down the hall. Smell the heavenly essence of her kitchen, and shovel down her delicious food without even getting a chance to breath.

She was full of life and in a heartbeat it was stolen from her.

I cry every birthday, I have since I was a little girl. My mom thought it was hilarious to take pictures of.

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Well it kind of is.

This year though? I was just counting down the seconds until it was over.

Birthdays are the worst days.



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