Mom’s Birthday

Every year, toward the end of July, I become nostalgic and a little depressed.  In years past, I’d be gearing up for the scenic drive north to visit my parents in Brookings, Oregon – with my three children in tow and plans to arrive on Mom’s August 3 birthday.  Mom always had a jar full of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies and a big pot of stew waiting for us.

Dad’s health was always precarious, and he often stayed home to rest while Mom and I took the wild ones to the beaches to run off some steam.  While they explored tide pools at Lone Ranch, or collected rocks and drift wood at Whaleshead, Mom and I sat and talked and talked… and talked. 

There are still times when I reach for the phone and realize again – achingly – that she can’t pick up on the other end.  I’ll have to wait until I get to Heaven to see her and Dad again. 

I wonder if there will be beaches.