How Turning 68 Has Its Upside

DATELINE: August 22, 2013
Patricia E Lyon

We had just freshened up when Mr. Kosal, the hotel chef, knocked on our door. He was wearing a new red striped shirt. He said, “Pat, we are having a party for you. Come downstairs.”

Wow. The new outdoor dining area was set with table cloths and linen napkins. In the dim light, I saw a barbecue bucket with coals and smelled wonderful kabobs. More dishes appeared. All kinds of sauces, chopsticks, table wear, glasses and platters of wonderful things appeared before me.

More and more people appeared. The entire hotel staff. Over 20 people and some of their families. Deanna began taking pictures. An orange cooler was opened to reveal Angkor Beer, lychee juice and some kind of wine cooler things called SPY, two colors, one for man and one for woman. Sky brought me a shirt he had made with folding riel paper money. Then he brought me a drink in a fancy glass containing Bailey’s Irish Cream and Kailua. My name was printed on the drink somehow. It was decorated with a frangipani flower which grew near the pool. Yummy.

I dipped lettuce, vegetables, pork and I do not know and rice that stayed in a rectangle into the sauce. I ate the kabobs. Kosal showed me how to do all this. There were platters of fish that had been marinated in salt and cooked on the grill. They still had their heads. Kosal put it on the plate and told me not to eat the skin and scales.

Then the lights went out. I thought maybe the electricity went out, but no. Mony and Kosal had arranged for the lights to go out as the cake was brought in. It was a cake like no other. It was frosted in some kind of egg white fluff with pastel colors. It said “Happy Birthday, Madamme Pat.” There was a giant pink rose next to a large pretty (if you will) chicken. Two candles kept getting blown out by the flame. One was a “6” and one was an “8”. Then they sang an Asian version of Happy Birthday. The son of Tiera and Mr. T, the managers, stuck his finger in the frosting. I put frosting on chopsticks for him and his sister. Then they were whisked away.

Mr. Kosal’s wife from Battambang called to me to wish me happy birthday. Cone hats were passed out. More pictures. More food. My number 7 grandson emails to me, “Cookie Grandma, what kind of cake do you want when you come home?”

I do not know. Maybe angel food with strawberries on top?

Today I tried on some clothes at the home of my tailor. They were all too small!