Mrs. Abercrombie

    (497 words)

    Mrs. Abercrombie saved every newspaper for decades.  She had one room upstairs that had stacks of musty and decayed newspapers covering the windows and under the four poster bed like three foot high carpet.  I nearly tripped over a stack one day when my mother was fixing her hair, getting her ready for her 100th birthday party when I was just a kid.  That day, Ms. Abercrombie had blue jeans on and a big button down shirt my dad wears. I'd never seen an old woman wear jeans.  And when she pointed at something, the tip of her finger pointed to the right a little.  Arthritis, my mom said.  Ms. Abercrombie always surprised me how she knew things she had no way of knowing.  Like that day when I was supposed to be watching television and had wandered off into the spare room with all the newspapers. When I heard my mother's car keys jangle, I ran back to the living room pretending I'd been there the whole time.  It didn't work. 
             
    "Did you find anything interesting rummaging around in those newspapers upstairs."

    "How did you.....I mean, no ma'am."

    "Well, little lady, you see that article hanging on the wall over yonder.  Go get it and let me show you something that might interest you."   

    I brought it to her and she tapped the glass on the top of the article with her crooked finger.  "See the date.  That's the world's fair the year I was born.  That was the year something happened that changed birthdays for millions of people.  Do you know what that was?" 

    "No ma'am, Mrs. Abercrombie, was it an invention or something?"

    "No honey, it was when the Happy Birthday song was written by two schoolteachers.  Can you imagine celebrating your birthday without that one little song?  Just wouldn't be the same, would it?  When I learned about that, I decided I would quietly thank those two ladies every year when I blew out my candles.  They made my birthdays special every year.  You gotta have something to be thankful for on your birthday, not just a wish of things to come.  Remember that always, sweetheart.  I want to hear you belt out that song at my birthday party tomorrow.  I'll be listening."
   
      I wish I could know for sure if she heard me singing.  The whole town sang it at her last party but she wasn't there.  She died sometime between our leaving and the following day, the day of her 100th birthday.  We had the party anyway, being that caterers were already coming only it turned into a memorial service.  I think she would have had a kick out of that and sure would have hated to waste that food.
   
    Fifteen years later, I stood in a crowded party room with five-year-olds swarming around my legs.  I looked at my firstborn son, about to blow out his candles.  I listened as everyone started to sing "Happy Birthday".  I wish I could say I thanked those two schoolteachers.  Instead, I whispered a little "thank you" to Mrs. Abercrombie for reminding me to be thankful for each year I get to spend on this earth with people I love.  With half the song left, I raised my voice and sang out loud, just for her.  I think she heard me this time.