It’s my birthday. I’ll leave it up to you to guess which one – careful!
Birthdays are a big deal to me.
It’s the one day that is uniquely yours, a celebration of you being on this earth. It’s a running joke with my friends that I really prefer to celebrate my birth MONTH (truer words were never written) but it’s all part of that. I haven’t had the joy of some other landmark celebrations that others have: wedding festivities, anniversaries, housewarmings, those sorts of things that cause folks to rally around and shower you with gifts, cake, fun and frivolity…so I hold my birthday sacred.
Admittedly, my high expectations haven’t always panned out. Usually, the best laid plans are thwarted by the snow that inevitably falls in February in the northeast portion of our great nation. (Seriously, INEVITABLY. For my 40th, I even pushed plans back until March…and it snowed. In March. At the beach.)
This year, my dearest friend is stubbornly holding the winter weather at bay long enough for me to get to her for the weekend. And I simply can’t wait.
Time with those you love who love you right back is a balm for the tired, world-weary soul.