My mother didn't remember my birthday. Memory is no longer an option for her. We spent the day at Green Key Park in New Port Richey. She enjoyed looking at the people especially the ones with lots of tattoos, some in scooters and a drunk disabled man who overturned his scooter to the amusement of his drunk friends. Half way into the mangrove walk we rested. My mother says few words now. She pointed to a man on a bench tucked away in the mangroves and said, “Is that a guitar?” A middle aged man was playing softly. He looked at us and nodded. I waved.
On this birthday the sunshine and anonymous guitar player was lovely and healing. I didn't mind that my mother did not know it was my birthday. What I did mind was the Google logo spelled out with birthday cakes and candles. Google knew it was my birthday?
|My google page today.|
This is what we were all screaming about in our twenties, and thirties, and …. It's too late baby. Too late.