Yesterday, 23 years ago, I was born. I celebrated my day of birth with great food, friends and some amazing gifts. I should feel so blessed, and I do. But alas, something was missing.  What was missing? Only those who should always stand by my side today: my family.

To be fair, one member of my family was wonderful. He sent a card that was beautiful, a gift he knew I badly needed and followed up with birthday wishes on the actual day. He is my grandfather, a man who I will forever look up to as the ideal person I wish to be. But where was my mother? Where was my sister? Where was my friend of 8 years?

My sister, I can forgive. She has a three month old son, her first, and is very busy. She just returned to work and also just moved. Also, she has never been big on the whole birthday thing. It just isn’t for her.

But really, my mother? Why was there no phone call, no card? I should not let it surprise me. It has been years since my mother sent me a birthday card, let alone a gift (now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t need gifts or cards, but a “happy birthday” doesn’t hurt, does it?). Usually, unless I call her, I wont hear anything. This is year five of this lovely tradition. Mom has demons, many demons.

I tried calling her, her phone was out of service, a consequence of spending your money on other people and not taking care of yourself. I called Grandpa to make sure someone had heard from her. Yes, he told me, she had been there not an hour before. Called a few people, checked her email and left to run errands.

Called a few people. I checked my missed calls. She didn’t call me. Inevitably, I will receive a call (or she will answer my call) in a few days. She will apologize for not talking to me on my birthday. She will tell me what a bad mother she is and I will tell her she isn’t a bad mom, and I really didn’t mind. But I do mind.

I can only thank God for the blessing of my four amazing friends. More than my fair share, I am sure.