The anniversary of the afternoon I shot out of my mother’s birth canal is this week.
For some reason, my mother felt this was the appropriate time to take a tour of the cemetery to pick out our family burial plot.
There are possible more morbid ways to ring in another year of life.
We could have gone casket shopping:
I haven’t been excited about my birthday for awhile. My knees are creakier, my memory is shoddier and my knees are creakier.
My husband says “Well, it’s better than the alternative.”
Now I know the alternative will be a hole on a hill or a hole near the main thoroughfare.
My mother wanted to know what my dying self preferred. I tried to imagine where I’d like to be once I shuffled off this mortal coil.
At this moment of publishing Speaker7 is even closer to her demise. What a better way to spend her remaining days, but writing a daily post as a member of the Nano Poblano Team?