It’s not fair.
(This is Amy again, by the way)
Today, my abuela is 94. NINETY-FOUR!! And where is she? MIAMI.
Perhaps you don’t quite understand. I live with her, HERE, in Orange County. But about a month ago, she decided to take a trip to MIAMI and visit her OLDER (yes, OLDER) brother. He will be 97 in May. (but, as Mom always says, that’s not important right now).
I WISH I was in Miami. I belong in Miami. I should’ve been at the birthday party. But instead, I’m knee deep into funeral preparations.
Speaking of funerals, I would like to take this moment to thank all of you so much for your kind words. I really appreciate all the love being sent this way.
That being said, last year when my abuela turned 93 I spent the whole day with her and then that night we threw her a party.
This year, I call her to say, "Felicidades Abuela!" and the response was:
"Gracias, hija! Te extrano mucho, pero no puedo hablar, me voy pa’ una fiesta!"
Great. She’s going to a party tonight and I don’t even have a date with Blockbuster. 🙁
So what’s the lesson here? That I have to wait until I’m in my 90s to party in Miami? I am SO NOT OK with that.
Despite the fact that I wish I was there, I’m thrilled to have such AWESOME genes.
I love that I can say, "My 94 year old abuela is celebrating her birthday in Miami."
And I’m grateful that she is still around and so "with-it" (even if she’s more "with-it" than I am).