Today is my mother's birthday.
She's pretty darn awesome.
I called her this morning to serenade her in my best off-key Happy Birthday song (El Bandito assisted). We often catch up on Thursdays by phone anyway, since I work at home and have a few minutes to grab a phone call without time zones being prohibitive.
The fact is, I enjoy those phone calls with my mother.
With each of my parents, though it's often a little overwhelming to talk to them simultaneously.
But I like that that they call; I like to call them. I genuinely enjoy talking to them.
They're friends; they're family, and they're my parents.
Too many of my friends among my peers have awful relationships with their blood family, through no real fault of their own. Others have lost a parent, or both parents, or grew up with only one. A number of my friends have commented that they envy me the relationship I have with my folks.
And yes, I can see them aging and it's rough. Making more visits home, fitting in the phone calls. Because *I* want to talk to them, to hear their stories, their goofiness, their wisdom.