For most people, a birthday is not an arbitrary milestone. It is the anniversary of the day they came into this world – it marks another year of living, laughing, loving, making progress toward their goals & dreams.
For me though, it is an arbitrary milestone. The season leading up to my birthday is difficult… it always reminds me of the worst times of my life, when most people would be thinking of the best times.
This year, I didn’t celebrate on my birthday… why would I? All my family lives far away. My husband is at work (on an oil tanker, on the opposite side of the continent). Even my in laws were out of town. It was okay. It was nice to spend it alone, to not have to smile and pretend to enjoy myself because I really am grateful to have people who want to celebrate my life.
I had already planned to have dinner with my in laws the day after, they insisted, but suddenly something magic happened that morning… I woke up feeling good. I was happy to go celebrate, go eat lasagna (yum!) and carrot cake (yummer!) and open birthday presents. But why? Why Monday and not Sunday?
What a difference a day makes.
Maybe I should always celebrate the day after.
Here’s to making it through the season!