Ninety-seven.

I have written tributes to my mom here, here, and here.

I don't have much I haven't told you about her.

Today she celebrates her 97th birthday. Ninety-seven, people!

We had a small luncheon to celebrate (actually, she stretches out the celebration thing for the entire month of February, but that's not important right now). We had lunch, she opened gifts, we laughed a lot, she told us stories. 

I was very careful to document the day. I so very much want to always remember the look on her face when she arrived and realized it was a party. The visible delight as she opened her gifts. How she listened intently to the youngest great-grandchild extending his happy birthday wishes.

I'm happy to report that she has arrived at 97 with her wits about her and her sense of humor intact.

That was obvious by the way she roared with laughter when Amy Kikita smashed the birthday cake in her face. (I know. Shut up.)

What a gift.

Felicidades, Mami. Te quiero mucho.