Today was my mother's birthday, and we celebrated at my sister and brother-in-law's camp on the lake en famille: my sister, brother-in-law, two nieces, my brother-in-law's parents, his brother and sister-in-law and their baby girl, my parents, and us. The clouds that had lurked overhead all day bunched up against the green hills to clear the skies, as the glow of the setting sun cast a rich light on the clouds, the water, the surrounding pines. My husband caught a frog to show my niece. Fish jumped. Pewees called back and forth in the forest. As dusk fell, bats fluttered back and forth. My niece learned the constellation Cassiopeia, who turns out to have been a queen of Ethiopia, where one of her friends was born. We walked barefoot down to the dock to look for falling stars from the Perseid meteor shower but only saw the plumes of our breath in the crisp air.

My brother-in-law grilled steak and lobster; his mother made potato salad and tomato and beet salad; his brother made an apple pie; my sister provided a birthday cake with candles; we brought fresh Beech Hill blueberries. We all feasted with much joy and laughter. We left as the almost-full moon was rising, full as the moon ourselves and happy.

When I'm 64,
I want this too: lake, family,
good food, stories, stars.