Today is my brother's birthday. He would be 62. I wonder if his hair would have turned all grey by now, if we would have developed a pot belly. Would he still be playing tennis, following the Phillies, rooting for the Sixers?
Ever since I was little, I always marked his birthday because it was the countdown to mine in early May. My mom made a big deal for our birthdays--hanging a sign in the dining room, cooking our favorite foods for dinner, baking a cake from scratch and letting the birthday girl or boy lick the bowl.
Well, I'm counting down now and it feels a lot different. I turn 65 this year, impossible but true, and I am on my own. l don't really mind being alone. I've always been good at it. What I miss most of all is the sharing. Coming together at the end of the day, at the end of a vacation, at the end of a thought, a project, a new experience and talking about it with someone who wants to listen to you. . .at least most of the time.
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