Hello and welcome to another Saturday here at the Wannaskan Almanac. Today is March 13th.
Birthdays abound in the month of March! The Third Grader had a birthday this week. A golden birthday, which means party, party, party because, hey, you only get one.
In my extended family, March is the busiest birthday month. My sweet girl shares her day with one of my aunts, a cousin, and, as discovered the night of our little family bash, one of the members of our local Toastmasters club.
Her special day kicked off with a phone call at 6:45 a.m. from her East Coast older sister.
"Hello?" I answered, groggily.
"Can I talk to Lucie?" said a female voice on the other end.
"Is this Lexie?" I asked, thinking it was the neighbor girl, because who else but another elementary-aged child would think to call our landline before seven in the morning.
"No! It's me!" the Oldest said.
The Golden Birthday girl was celebrated at school with thoughtful cards and wishes from her teachers, a singing of "Happy Birthday" by her class, and all the special privileges usually bestowed on a birthday kid. (Which I'm glad she gets because, as a summer birthday kid myself, man, you miss out.)
Her birthday dinner was a cinch: "those little square potatoes mom makes" and salad. I threw in some hot dogs, because, you know, protein. Even the birthday cake was a breeze - brownies - because her real cake would be the next day when the neighbor kid (the one I thought was calling) and her brother planned to come over to celebrate kid-style.
When the time for opening presents came, we had the Oldest set up on one smartphone video call and my mother set up on another. We propped them up side by side on the table for prime viewing. The Third Grader, oohed and aahed at the socks, and the sketchpad, and the robot thingy dad bought in place of the planned Lego set. It was so sweet and the togetherness - even through two cellphones - felt palpable and real.
Last week, I grumbled about the imminent melting of winter, but on the day of the "real" birthday party, I felt the first stirrings of optimistic spring. The kid crew and I headed outdoors and down the neighbor's dirt road, across the abandoned basketball court, to a black, metal footbridge that arches over the west branch of the Warroad River. To our delight, the water was flowing! Rust-colored water rushed over sunken bergs of dirty-white ice. While I imagined neighbor kids falling overboard on my watch, the kids marveled at Mother Nature, bellies pressed to the railing, leaning over as far as possible. They foraged for reeds, sticks, leaves, and chunks of ice to drop into the water. "It's so satisfying," they remarked, for every shoosh and kersplash that floated up to our ears when the objects hit the water.
Next, we followed a well-trodden path through the neighbors' swampy forest to the next neighbor's yard where we played tag games on a playground built like a large wooden fortress. The Kindergartener and I had played here not even two weeks prior and, in that time, the vast yard of snow had completely melted to its brown, earthy origins. The only winter remaining a few stubborn snowbanks, slippery and compact, yet easy to traverse.
And the air smelled fresh, reminding me of springtime in West Flanders (Belgium); biking between farmers' fields - wide, open spaces - on narrow dirt roads, from one village to the next to spend a Saturday afternoon with friends. And I couldn't help but feel just a tad excited.
The prospect of travel wooed my imagination and adventurous heart. With the Second Oldest wrapping up his junior year of high school, another college road trip is a distinct possibility. Kids might be able to attend camp at Laketrails this year. We might get to the cabin. And see my mother. Maybe even get back to the Czech Republic in 2021 after all.
The scent of possibility. So promising, so intoxicating.
And, yes, while my husband's prediction that a snowstorm was bound to come true, it didn't happen here, thus sustaining my hope of the thawing promise of spring.
On This Day
Remembering You
Kim
ReplyDeleteMarch is a fine month to have a birthday. I’ve celebrated two Golden birthdays. One when I was 26. And another when I turned 47 (1947).
And don’t forget double golden birthdays: when your age is twice the day you were born on.
Next Friday will be like a triple crown, trifecta of chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and, well, whatever third chocolatey item that won't put you over the edge! I'll be making one at our house! :)
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