Happy Birthday, Mom!
I hope you don’t mind that I haven’t gotten you a present yet. Or that I didn’t go to church this week, last week, or the week before that.
I thought it was okay that I haven’t given you grandchildren to spoil though to be fair I have four other siblings who could take care of that.
I’m sorry I haven’t sent back your terno, especially since it doesn’t fit me anymore. But I have this crazy idea that if I get married I’d wear it or get another terno made in my size to resemble it, and then you would wear yours and we freak everybody out with our mother-daughter awesomeness. Though I guess we’d have to get matching dresses for Joseline and Jacqueline so they wouldn’t feel left out.
I still have all the pictures I took from your photo album, and I promise that I will send them back as soon as I scan them. So all the world can see the crazy outfits you made me wear when I was little. I mean, who makes her daughters wear velveteen short pant suits during a summer trip to Baguio City?
I wonder if I get my sense of glamor and appreciation of camp from you. I love puns like Dad does, but the way certain words sound so funny that you can’t stop saying them to yourself or anybody else when you’re not writing them on every flat surface you can find? I blame you. I mean, I thank you.
I wish I’d gone through with that debut you wanted to give but could little afford. Why don’t we do it when I turn 38? That would be awesome and not totally “Miss Havisham from ‘Great Expectations'”-like at all!
I hope I get over my dislike of talking on the telephone so we can talk more. Only as long as you promise not to gossip about me to people I don’t even know. Gossiping to people I do know, that’s okay. It’s your birthday after all.