Do you love or hate your own birthday? Do you anticipate all the fun celebration, and declare it your Birthday Week? Birthday Month? Do you look forward to the fun and presents, and then plunge into despair of how old you are getting, and cry over time’s passing?
I love my birthday. I always have of course, but I never had to have a week or month all to my birthday-self, until I met my husband. When I first me him, he had a Birthday Month. Really? An entire month? Is that necessary? But then we had kids. 4 of them. Birthday Month for the Dad in the bunch, happily became Birthday Week. And now, for myself, I think I have settled into Birthday Weekend.
We give presents, go out to dinner and possible blow out some candles. I drink to that of course, with my favorite beverage, in my Birthday Glass (thank you Kathy!), and just think about how lucky I am to have all my favorite people who love me within arms-reach. It is joy.
I recently asked a friend of mine, who is my exact age, whether she enjoys her birthdays or if she gets depressed thinking how old we are getting. She thought for a moment, and then reminded me how her mom died at a very young age. Since then, my friend has always just been thankful to have the time that is left (no matter how much) with her kids and family. She’s just grateful and happy to be healthy. Of course.
So, my friends and readers, I am also grateful this year. My half a century birthday might be a different story, but for this round, I am so happy to be able to celebrate another wonderful year. A gift. Happy Birthday to ME! I am so lucky~ Thank you for reading~