Holiday coincides with birthday

It’s almost St. Patrick's Day. When I was in grade school St. Patrick's Day meant two things. We would color shamrocks and if someone wasn’t wearing green they would get pinched repeatedly. I don’t remember anything else about it.

Later on, the day was one where my step-dad would dance my mom around the kitchen while doing his version of an Irish jig. Trust me, there was not anybody with even a spec of Irish blood who would recognize the dance as Irish. It didn’t matter. All that matters is that for those few hours they were happy with each other. I am sad that by the time my brothers were old enough to remember anything the days of dancing in the kitchen were over.

It seems like yesterday that the shamrock coloring pages were brought home by my daughter. I made sure she wore the requisite green so she wouldn’t get pinched. Before I knew it, the shamrocks were being colored by my grandchildren. These days even they are too old to be coloring at school except in art class. Where has the time gone?

About 12 years ago the holiday took on a different meaning. It became the day before grandson Jacob’s birthday. It is unbelievable to me that he will be 12. It seems like yesterday that we were crouched in a refrigerator box hiding from monsters.

I bought his birthday present last week then tried to find a box for it. I couldn’t find anything even close to the size I needed. I stuck it in a big box and packed leftover bubble wrap around it. But when I got to the post office the lady behind the counter told me it would cost an outrageous amount. Even though the weather had been dry when I got to the post office it was pouring rain when I left.

I took the present back home, thankful that I had driven to the post office and not walked. I cut pieces of the box to fit the present, and used tons of tape to hold the whole thing together. Then I went back to the post office. This time the price was much more reasonable. They estimated that it would arrive in Texas on Monday. Oh, and it had quit raining.

We bought lunch and headed for a nearby park to eat. That is one of the few perks of the pandemic. We eat outside more often. We took the rest of the day to stop at the home improvement store and drop off our regular donation. From there we went to get groceries, where I was once again irritated because COVID regulations mandated that the cashier was not allowed to touch any bags except the ubiquitous plastic bags that I despise so much. Touching each and every item in my cart is apparently considered safe.

To be fair, we do take an insulated bag for the cold stuff. We pack that one ourselves. This does not make up for the dozens of items that are double and triple bagged in flimsy plastic sacks. I feel sorry for the people who must work through this pandemic. They politely listen to customers who complain about things the cashiers can’t do anything about.

Several lifetimes have passed since the last time St. Patrick's Day was here. It seems like yesterday that COVID turned the world upside down. I probably won’t do anything for St. Patrick's Day except try to get Jacob to answer his phone so I can wish him a happy birthday.