Yesterday was my mother's birthday. Had she lived, she would have been 71. I have not been foreboding the date. I do not honor her life by putting flowers on her grave. I do not spend the day remembering her. I do not flip through photo albums reminiscing about my life with her.

I did, however, have fleeting, passing thoughts about her. Her lean silhouette. The times that she would be in the bathroom getting ready to go out and I would watch her, intently. The curlers in her hair. Putting on her makeup. Ah, the lipstick. Don't forget the lipstick. The way she would introduce me as her 'baby'. Hearing her creep in to check on me in the middle of the night.

I try to forget the bad things. Where she was going, all dressed up. Where we were at when she would introduce me. Where she was headed after she checked on me. The sudden realization that I was not the center of my mother's world - only a part of it. She existed beyond being my mother. She was a girlfriend, a confidante. A waitress, A seamstress. A wife. A frequent customer of 'The Eleventh Frame', 'The Lone Star', and 'Starlite Lounge'. See........I try to forget the bad stuff and it creeps in, anyway.

So I forget about the day. I shove those memories out of my head and fill the day with distractions. Heavy labor in the yard. A meeting with my school team to work on an assignment. Enjoying a night out with Chris.

Yesterday was a good day.