April 2nd, 1990
Today is mum’s 49th birthday!
I’m still reeling from the excitement of the past couple of days and mum said I’m glowing! I told her (mostly!) everything about my time with David.
“What a birthday present,” she gushed.
“He said he loves it when you answer the phone mum, then tell him twenty minutes later I’m in Abu Dhabi or wherever.”
In honour of mum’s birthday, I did the dishes then carried the cake I bought on my way home, into the living room, singing “Happy Birthday.” Dad joined in with the singing while mum perched on the edge of the couch, acting as the conductor.
“Where were you hiding that?” she asked after the final strain of “yooooooo.”
“That would be telling.”
“At least there’s only a few candles, otherwise I’d be here all bloody night blowing them oot!”
“You don’t look your age at all, mum.”
“And I certainly don’t act it,” she chuckled.
“Make a wish, Lizzie,” dad beamed.
I can only imagine what she wished for!