Well, it’s my birthday.
I have had a lot of birthdays in my time. A few parties, gifts, and their memories
linger for many of them.
I remember turning
eighteen: I had been up all night finishing a paper for my Contemporary History
class. I slept in, and then went to
school in the afternoon. When I got home, there were eighteen pink roses
waiting for me, a gift from my boyfriend.
Most of my birthday celebrations were family affairs. As a child, I was allowed to choose what I
wanted for supper on my birthday: I always chose barbequed spare ribs. And mostly got them…
As a mother with small children, my birthday became less of
an occasion as my children’s birthdays took center stage. My youngest was born on May 27th,
so I stopped having my own birthday cake.
It was just too much to have two birthday cakes in two days.
I remember my fortieth birthday. I spent the day alone, moping. When it was finally over, I was ready to
carry on with my life. Just that day
bothered me….
That’s sort of where I am right now, without the
moping. I celebrate the day with family
and then just carry on…. I have reached the age where many of my friends and
acquaintances have died. Any thoughts of
immortality or invulnerability are gone…
Each day is like a birthday: waking up and being grateful
for the day I have been given. By making
every day special, a birthday is less of a celebration and more of a normal occurrence.
I like it that way: celebrating the everyday and appreciating what each day
brings.
And yes, celebrating birthdays is still fun. My kids will be here later today for a BBQ,
not spare ribs but hamburgers. And the
cake is left over from John’s birthday in March. It’s a little munched after being in the
freezer but, I’m sure, it will still be delicious.
Happy Today! This is
my present….
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