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….