friends—mimosas, a charcuterie board, the whole thing.
Mom called at two that afternoon.
Not to wish me happy birthday.
She wanted me to drive her to a podiatrist appointment.
I waited forty minutes in the parking lot, and she never mentioned my birthday once.
When I finally brought it up on the drive home, she blinked and said, “Oh, honey, I thought that was next week.”
My best friend, Colleen—the only person who arrived that night with a cupcake—said something I wasn’t ready to hear.
They didn’t forget.
They simply
