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60 years ago is not the 1940s

  When you are born, you are lucky to get one day a year to celebrate just you. Well, you and all the others born on that day. When you become a mother or father, you get another day for just you. Sometimes those days come when you are not ready, and some come when you wish they wouldn't.
  Today, 60 years ago, my mother was born. A date that means littler to most people I know than to her or me. As we age, and my mother is no different, our birthdays become just another cycle of the rising of the sun and a following of the moon. Nothing to make a big to do of.
  My mother enjoys subtly. She can be dramatic but embraces the subtle acknowledgement of herself. She has ALWAYS placed herself second and counted the accolades of her children as if they were her own. That was one thing my mother NEVER lacked: humility. Which made me often sad she didn't get more than 2 days a year commemorating her.
  Mom, I know I've come short. I know that I have openly and often failed to honor the woman that you are. We have become silent branches of each other, and so many of your character traits are the things I still remain hopeful that I will acquire as a mom but even more importantly as a woman.
  I wish you the best birthday that you are capable, at this moment, to have. One day, they will be epic. Until then, we hold on and enjoy what we have for a long as we have it. I love you dearly. More than I say and much more than I express. All my love. :-*

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