Checked mailbox today to find an unexpected care package from Mommy.
My mom rarely does things like this, but I do remember the last time she did. It was in my first year in college. As my birthday falls on the last week of August, it usually coincides with the first day of school. At the time, I was really miserable, having a hard time adapting, and especially dreading my 18th birthday, because I didn’t feel like I had anyone with whom to share it. That week, my mom had ordered a birthday cake as a surprise. When I went to get my mail, I was given the confection monstrosity. While carrying it to my room, the weight of the package made me feel more and more miserable. I ended up throwing it away, almost immediately. Yes, a huge sheet cake flying down a dormitory trash chute. To this day, I still feel really terrible about it. That was the year I stopped celebrating my birthday, and truly stopped being happy about getting older.