Several years ago, just before my birthday
I had to remove the remains
of a woman my age
from a care center
where she died alone.
There was a little yellow Beanie Baby Bear on her nightstand and someone had put pale blue fuzzy socks on her feet. I think one of her care givers gave her the bear and bought her the fuzzy socks.
It must have been nice for her, to have someone care for her like that in the end.
Since then when my birthday rolls around – which had never been a pleasant time for me- I think of it as ‘our Birthday’ and it makes the day a little more tolerable.