No words

I'm still in shock I'm forty years old. It's been three days and yet I still feel thirty-nine. The actual "birth day" was pretty uneventful other than some crying and fifty phone calls from Sybil.

After the whole bicycle debacle I didn't expect much from my mother. At best a re-purposed Easter card wishing me a good day, at worst nothing. Turns out I need to reevaluate my expectations.

Sybil called me that morning to get my day off on the right foot.

Sybil: Happy Birthday.
Barry: Thanks
Sybil: I sent you something. You are to call me as soon as it comes.
Barry: Okay. Talk to you later.

At this point I made the assumption she sent me a check for $40 and went about my day. For a second I pondered the idea she went to a store and bought me something, but that seemed absurd. Would she get me a polo shirt? Maybe some GIJoes? No way!

When I came home later, I saw a small vase outside with some crappy flowers you would expect to see at a Nurse's station sitting by the door. I laughed to myself just assuming they were for someone else. I then read the card, "Happy Birthday, blah, blah, blah, love Mom.

I really have no words for this. I'm a forty year old man and my mother sent me flowers for a milestone birthday.

Obviously based on my rage level I decided it would be best to not call Sybil to thank her for her generosity. A few hours and five messages later checking on the status of the gift I finally decided to talk to her.

Barry: Hello
Sybil: Did you get my gift?
Barry: Yeah
Sybil: Why didn''t you call me?
Barry: Because it's a shit gift.
Sybil: What?
Barry: Who sends their son flower for their 40th birthday? Who sends their son flowers, period? I would have rather you given me the cost of the postage.
Sybil: Someone told me it was a good idea.
Barry: I have to go.

The next day, Sybil called to ask me to inventory the gifts I received. I responded swiftly with "Who cares."

That was the end of it. Since then there has been no more mention of the day. Maybe she is saving for my 50th.