A Birthday Story

I was born on my father's birthday, July 10th. So, every year we shared a birthday cake and blew out the candles together. It was nice sharing my birthday with my dad. My father died fifteen years ago, and my birthday became mine alone. I no longer had a shared birthday, though my sister's is July 9th, so we often celebrate ours together. At the time my father died, I was living in Philadelphia and my sister was living in Kentucky. For the first several years after our father died, my sister drove to Ohio on our birthday to visit his grave and place flowers on it.

One night, my sister had a dream, in which our father was speaking to her. He thanked her for the flowers and made a suggestion. He suggested that, rather than leaving flowers at his grave that she send them to me on our birthday. So, every year when I lived in Philadelphia I received a bouquet of flowers from my sister on my birthday. She still does it, now that I live in Kentucky near her. Today, I had lunch with my sister and three nieces and they brought me roses for my birthday. And for Dad's birthday, too.


Here I am at lunch today, with my nieces. Yesterday, I made a birthday cake for my sister, and today she and the girls made a birthday cake for me!
(See yesterday's post where we celebrated my sister's birthday!)