It has been more years than I can remember since I have cooked on my birthday. Actually, I’m not sure I ever have. Today is my birthday and I will be cooking a meal for my mother and myself. Circumstances this fall have enabled me to travel back and forth between Connecticut and Maine to help my parents who are in need of help after my mother had a fall and my father had an untimely car accident. Alternating with my sister, I have been spending quality time at my parents’ house with my mother, then visits with my dad where he is going through some pretty grueling physical rehabilitation. Dealing with aging parents is nothing new but having the opportunity to spend days and nights with them is rare. It really is nice to know that you are still someone’s kid and so I celebrate that today.

My father just started walking with a walker fewer than two weeks ago and today he prepared our lunch at the rehab facility as part of his occupational therapy treatment. Blood, sweat and no doubt tears swears went in to his stir fried beef and vegetables which he shared with my mother and me, and his roommate. We finished with a beautiful cake my mother ordered for me and shared the rest with the staff and residents. It was a wonderful celebration of not only my birthday, but progress and love.

Tonight, I will cook. My mother and I, both of whom have small appetites these days, will share a filet mignon, a baked potato, asparagus and a salad. I will pour a glass of red wine and my mother will drink ice water and the dog will be at our feet happy that my birthday dinner took place at home.