Each year I would begin calling my dad around the end of March.  The countdown to my birthday had commenced. We played this game for years. Well into my adulthood. Long after I should have stopped.  I loved it. Mom had a knack for making birthdays and holidays magical. It wasn't anything she bought. It was her excitement. It was catchy. She singled you out. For worth. For purpose.  My birthday meant Spring. The end of the cruel winter. Each birthday wonderful. Spent with family and friends. It didn't matter what we did. I just loved being together and celebrating. Mom is ... View Post