Oh, where do I even begin? After 90 years on this rollercoaster called life, I figured I had seen it all. But just when you think life has no more surprises, it throws you a curveball. Friends, grab a cup of tea and pull up a chair because this is one tale you won’t want to miss.
Allow me to introduce myself—I’m Patty. A 90-year-old spitfire who’s been through the ups and downs of love, loss, and everything in between. Now, my beloved husband passed away a few years ago, and since then, it’s been Angie, my daughter, and me steering this ship.
I’ve been counting the days to my 90th birthday with the kind of anticipation usually reserved for a kid waiting for Santa. Angie swore she’d visit with my grandkids, and you know how the thought of seeing those little darlings just melts my heart. They’re like mini versions of Angie, mingled with a pinch of their dad, John, Angie’s ex-husband and the saint of my heart.
Oh, John! A gem of a man. Even after the divorce, he’s been writing to me every Christmas, never missing a beat. Now, how many ex-sons-in-law do that? It crushed me when they split, but hey, life is unpredictable, to say the least.
So, the big day finally arrived. I was all dolled up and practically skipping around my house. By lunchtime, I began to feel a twinge of worry. No calls, no messages, nothing. Angie had gone radio silent. My phone calls went unanswered and eventually straight to voicemail. My mind spiraled into all the possible scenarios. Was she driving? Did she forget? But as the minutes turned to hours, I had to face the grim reality—I was going to spend my landmark 90th birthday alone.
Just as I was about to drown my sorrows in self-pity, the doorbell rang. If my knees had been nimbler, I would have done cartwheels! But wait—when I reached the door, it wasn’t Angie or my grandkids. It was John, smiling that megawatt smile, standing there with flowers and gifts.
“Happy Birthday, Ma!” John’s booming voice filled the room like a warm hug.
“John?! What on earth! You didn’t have to—” I chirped, trying to hide my blush.
“Of course, I did! I couldn’t let this day pass by without celebrating you,” he said, handing over my favorite chocolates. My heart fluttered like a teenager with a crush!
“You’re too sweet. Care to join me for dinner?” I asked, hoping he’d say yes.
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude,” John replied meekly, but I wasn’t about to let my knight in shining armor leave that easily.
“Nonsense! I’ve got nothing planned and could really use the company. Plus, there’s apple pie!” I insisted.
“Apple pie? Well, you should’ve led with that!” John laughed, and that sealed the deal.
John, it turns out, is quite the chef—just like my late husband. We cooked up a storm together, him doing most of the heavy lifting while I basked in the company. During dinner, John finally brought up Angie.
“So, is Angie joining us? I don’t want her to think I’m ambushing you,” John said, almost reading my mind.
true
“No, John, she won’t be joining us today,” I sighed, my heart sinking a bit.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, taking my hand in his. “You shouldn’t be alone on your birthday.”
“Thanks to you, I’m not,” I said, feeling a tear tug at my eye. “Thank you, John.”
“No problem, Ma,” he continued. But curiosity got the better of him. “Why didn’t Angie come? Or at least the kids? They love spending time with you.”
“I tried calling, but no answer. Maybe she’s just busy…” I trailed off.
“Let me give her a call,” John said, whipping out his phone. And wonders never cease—Angie picked up his call on the first ring.
“What did she say?” I asked, my patience thinner than a potato chip.
“They’re on vacation,” John said, his voice tinged with upset. “She’s with her new boyfriend and the kids.”
“Vacation? And she didn’t tell anyone? Who is this me guy?” I was reeling.
“Apparently, they’ve been planning it for a month,” John said, just as baffled as I was. “She didn’t say a word to me about taking my children out of town.”
“This is beyond disappointing. How could she?” I muttered, my heart breaking into pieces. I later managed to talk with Angie, and she promised a visit as soon as possible. But let me tell you, folks, the damage was done. I felt like I’d been sucker-punched by life.
Thank goodness for John, who softened the blow. But the sting lingers, and I can’t help but question how to move forward. What would you do in my shoes?
