60 Years of Mom

We went back to Illinois and surprised my mom with a small get together to celebrate her 60th birthday last weekend. She was in Florida for her actual birthday. Just two days before her birthday, she fell in a parking lot and broke her wrist. The same wrist she broke as a 12 year old jumping towards a garage rafter, missing, and hitting the ground instead. So not the greatest way to celebrate. They ended up have dinner and driving home to Illinois the next Monday.

My brother, Ronnie, organized us – me, my sister, and my aunt Cindy and uncle Mike and my two cousins – the crew. Jake and I hid until everyone arrived and snuck out and surprised her. Or kind of surprised her – my mom of course suspected. And she also hates surprises.

My mom had me when she was 19. She and my dad married in April of 1978 when she was 17 – and just about to graduate from high school. I was born in November 1979, my brother in 1981, and sister in 1987. The years between us seem to shrink each decade. And I kind of love that.

I didn’t take very many photos, but these are some keepers.