My mother had a birthday ritual for my three sisters and me as we were growing up. On our birthday morning, we would wake up to a corsage on our desk and a birthday card. A new outfit, carefully chosen, would be waiting for us in preparation to face the day. Our favorite lunch items were packed, and we got to choose what we ate for dinner. Cake and candles, presents and songs – it was a full production.
The Birthday Magic
I remember feeling so special on my birthdays; as if the day existed just for me. That bubble of excitement, that warm cocoon of care, surrounded me completely. It wasn’t until I was in my 30s that I realized – outside of that house, in the real world – my birthday was just another day. That bubble had popped.
No corsage, no curated moments, just me, facing the world, tackling work, my daughter’s schedule, my dating or friendship woes. Sure, I still chose something special or new to wear on that day, and when Facebook finally got into full swing (when I was about 40-ish), all those happy birthday messages actually did mean something. It felt like a tiny resurgence of that birthday magic.
As the Years Went By, Things Shifted
It wasn’t about me anymore. It was about my daughter. Her birthdays. Her excitement. A simple dinner out with friends or a birthday tea replaced lavish all-night celebrations. Over the years, my mother still meticulously picked out a birthday card for me. Inside, usually a crisp $100 bill. Her handwriting was neat and purposeful, the color of the envelope almost more important than the card – pink, yellow, blue, lavender. There were years when we always made time to celebrate together, and then, slowly, that faded too.
At some point, she started mailing the card with a check instead, but she always held out hope for an in-person visit – the ones that became further and further apart, for reasons too complicated and personal to explain here.
I don’t remember the exact year it changed. The moment I noticed things were… different.
This year, the envelope was pink. The word “MoM” was crossed out, and my name was written above it. Inside was a $50 check.
And now, I’m left with a decision – do I cash the check, or do I let it sit in a drawer for eternity?
Three Lessons I Didn’t See Coming
The Rituals That Shape Us Don’t Last Forever, But Their Imprint Does
The corsage, the new outfit, the thoughtfulness – those things aren’t my reality anymore. But they’re ingrained in me. And, in my way, I’ve passed that feeling along to my daughter. The rituals may change, but the intent behind them stays.
Time Changes Everything, Even the Things We Swore It Wouldn’t
I’m sure, in my mother’s mind, there was a reason. Maybe she was testing the waters, seeing if I’d notice. Maybe she simply forgot. Most likely, taking care of her 96-year-old husband who become homebound in the last few months, she just didn’t have the time or energy to get it together for my card.
Either way, the unspoken message was clear: things are different now.
Love Is Often Measured in Small, Unspoken Ways
It’s easy to get caught up in the loss – the faded traditions, the dwindling celebrations. But that pink envelope? That crossed-out name? It was still a card. Still a check. Still my mother, in her own way, marking the day. Maybe not in the way I wished, but in the way she could.
It’s Not About the Money
I could make this about my card being an afterthought. The money. The amount. The meaning behind the change: is she hurting for money or does she care about me less? But what I really need to ask myself is: what do I want my birthdays to feel like now? What’s the version of a corsage-and-card that makes sense to me? And, what does feeling seen look like now?
Maybe it’s not about corsages or cards anymore. Maybe it’s a text that makes me laugh. A quiet moment to myself. A dinner I didn’t have to cook. Or even just someone remembering without a social media reminder.
I don’t need a party at my age. I need connection. Intention. Maybe just a sign that someone still sees the little girl who once woke up to a corsage – and knows she’s still in there.
And maybe, on some level, that pink envelope with the name crossed out, was just what I needed.
What’s Next?
Celebrate when you can. Set rituals for you and your loved ones. And when the time is right, disregard and come up with new ways to celebrate, remember, and love.
Also read, 6 Creative Birthday Gifts for Women Over 60 That Won’t Clutter Up the House.
Let’s Talk:
Did you have a birthday ritual growing up? What was it? How did it shift as the years progressed? What birthday ritual did you create with your children/grandchildren?
