For a number of years, while I was working at Scholastic, I shared my birthday with a few co-workers. We were all born a few days and an undisclosed number of years apart. We never planned it. It was always a casual thing. “Hey, let’s go out for our birthdays,” Jackie would say. And off we went.
Over the past few years, I hadn’t celebrated with my co-workers. I lost touch with one of them, although I can see she is doing well from the FB posts of friends we share. And while I hadn’t spoken, emailed, texted, or pm'd the other, I knew if I reached out, she’d be there.
"Why don't you come out to Brooklyn?" "Let me know next time you come into the City." One time she and our former editorial director surprised me and stopped by my shop in Cold Spring. Just after we moved back from Botswana, a Scholastic reunion of sorts came together, bringing many of us from "the old days" to one of our favorite hang outs in the Village. "When can we do that again?" was a catch phrase one or more of us would utter half-heartedly on social media. There always seemed to be a better time, a next time..."Next time I'm downtown." "Next time I've got a sitter." "Not this time because I can't get away from the store, but definitely next time." I’m not sure when the last time was. Could it really have been 13 years?
I'm sorry I took our time together for granted. I was overwhelmed when I learned of her death. I didn’t know the Cancer had come back.
I didn’t know.
But over the years, why didn’t I call her? Why didn’t I make an effort to go see her? Why?
And now I’m facing another birthday and she just missed hers. We won't have that birthday lunch. We don't get to plan an alternate date. I don’t get to say, "Happy Birthday". And most importantly, I also didn't get to say "Good-Bye".
