My Banner Family

I have a banner family. Figuratively. And recently, literally.

Last week I turned fifty and, at my request, I asked my kids not to make a big deal over it. I already did something fun to celebrate my aging body earlier this year so I was content to enjoy a fun Sunday with my three kids.

I’m the youngest of five boys. The baby of the family. And over the years I’ve watched my older brothers get, well, older. Truthfully, while I’m accustomed to them putting an extra candle on their cake each year, I never really think of myself as getting older. The baby of the family doesn’t get older. It’s a privilege that comes with the role.

My brothers all live in different states, as do all of their grown children. Unfortunately, we don’t get together all that often. It just doesn’t work that way. But my siblings and their families all showed up for my fiftieth birthday. They were all plastered, actually. Plastered on the wall of my den in a banner made by my three kids.The photo above is the condensed/spliced product. The real thing stretched the entire width of my room and gave me the biggest smile I’ve had in a long, long time. As I looked at it, I was reminded of how lucky I am to have them as my family.

These are the people who provide the grounding in my life. They are the blue blazer of my wardrobe. The salt and pepper of my spice cabinet. They are, in truth, the most solid, loyal group of people I know.

It was a perfect surprise. And the next best thing to being there.

But next time, when my family gets plastered, we’re doing it in person.