Birthdays. You either love ‘em or you hate ‘em. In my case, as a kid I hated them and I absolutely love them as an adult. I was a painfully shy kid. I cringe as I think how much I dreaded all eyes on me as the birthday cake came out, specially made for me, glowing with candles which inevitably re-lit themselves once I blew them out, adding to the shyness and redness in my cheeks.
Oh, and the opening of the presents, could there be anything more painful? I would slowly and painstakingly open the gifts, not tearing the paper. What I was really doing was putting off my public reaction to the gift. Would I love it? If I didn’t, would I have to fake loving it? Would they believe me? It was exhausting! I’m sure I loved the cake and having my family and friends there though…
Fast forward to today. I celebrated my birthday on Monday. I’m still celebrating my birthday, and it’s now Sunday. I told everyone I came across. Cashiers, bartenders, friends, and strangers. Life is to be celebrated. Health and being alive is one of the greatest gifts we have. Most of us have lost loved ones who we wish with all of our hearts were still here. We’ve witnessed best friends fighting for their lives. What would they say to hear us lament, “Ugggg, I’m turning one year older”? We’ve been granted another year on the planet, another year to dream big, another year to hold our lover’s hand, see the smiles on our friends' and family’s faces, and to snuggle with our pets. Those are gifts that I’m celebrating this year, and the year after, and the year after that…