Today is the day that I was born.
Being a mom myself now changes how I view this day so very much. This day really isn’t about me anymore.
Since having babies of my own, when my own birth-day arrives, I tend to think about my mama and dad. My thoughts instantly go to them.
I picture mama in the delivery room, holding me for the very first time. What was she thinking when she first looked at me? I think of my dad… pacing back and forth in the waiting room, anticipating the news… I had arrived 3 weeks early, so mom and dad weren’t as prepared as they could have been for me… what were daddy’s first words to mama? I want to know. I think of how my birth affected my big brother, who at first wanted them to send me back… but then quickly became my biggest protector…
I think of my husband, my best friend, the man who holds my heart.
I think of my own babes…. these delightful little people who have changed my heart and soul forever.
I think, I was that little once? I was as little as my own little ones? My mom and dad with me… raising me, training me, singing with me, dancing with me, teaching me, praying with me…
Mama and Dad have sacrificed so much for me; I understand that more now than ever before. My love for them has only deepened…
And today the best thing I know to do to be close to my selfless parents that have impacted my soul but who live so far away is to pull out Mama’s keftas from the freezer and make that my birthday dinner. Everytime Mama comes to visit, she makes a bunch of food and freezes it for us. And we savour each meal, eating them slowly… I still have the keftas from a while ago…. they are still very, very good, I know. So in an effort to feel close to the woman who gave birth to me, who has loved me passionately, to the man who is my Dad, my wise, loving Dad… we will eat this meal today. Mama’s hands gently shaping each kefta while sharing stories and laughing with me. Dad watching on, smiling… we will eat this meal together.
All I have to do is prepare the broth.
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