Birthday Present

It was my birthday the other day. I turned 48. It seems weird to see the number 48. In regard to my age anyway. 48 is usually my bank account balance. Cents. Are we old at this age? I used to think so and based on all the ailments I've experienced of late I think I may be. I said weird because I may feel 48 a lot of days in my body but in my mind I'm much younger, like 12. Looking at my check book you'd agree.

I stopped by moms house to drop off a check. Told her to cash it before the account got back down to...well, you know.  She gave me a birthday gift and a card. Do we really need to give a card with the gift? I said thanks and smiled and walked out holding my gift. I was disappointed as I walked to the truck because I had shaken the gift box. No noise. Remember when you were a kid and you got a box that rattled? Model airplane, Lego's, board game, a box of army men. All good stuff. Then you get this box that doesn't rattle or worse,  a package that goes limp in your hand.What is it with moms and giving clothes? Mine gives underwear, tee shirts and socks. Undergarments. And you have to open this stuff in front of your friends at the party. I'm glad I wasn't a girl.

I went home and complained to my wife. It fell on deaf ears- turns out she's a mom too. "Oh gee whiz Mark  grow up! What are you, 12?"

I like to get gifts though, whether it rattles or not. Don't know who invented the whole birthday gift thing but I'd like to shake his hand. What a wonderful invention that means something different at different ages. When you're 7 it's all about the mystery inside the box and all the fun you will have with it. When you're, say, 48, it's about the mystery outside the box. It really IS the thought that counts ( this is definitely NOT true when you're 7. Please, get 'em something to play with). The thought is love. You're special. And I really do feel special. Special enough to wear the underwear mom bought. Even though she still thinks I'm a 32....

I did get a gift a long time ago that I still hold special. It was from my Dad. It didn't come in a box I could shake or in fancy Batman wrapping paper with a big bow. It came in a shroud that was dirty and stained and bloody and laid on a cold floor in a dark cave. I never got to see this gift or hold it but it's my most prized possession and without it I am ruined. 2000 years ago a Man loved His Dad so much that He gave his very life for me and as I type this I cry and weep for I am so unworthy. I am wretched and foul and so undeserving but my Dad said "Mark, it is all that foul wretchedness I wiped away with that shroud and it is gone. Forgotten. You are my love, and you are my son and I'll love being with you forever. Happy birthday".

Forever. I like the sound of that. As it turns out, 48's not so old after all....