My birthday’s on Sunday. Even though I’m tuning 29, I’m still looking foreword to it. For one, I don’t have to work, so I can enjoy the day and secondly, birthdays still have that magical allure for me. I like going out to eat. I like going to the bookstore or taking a walk if the weather’s nice.
I’ve noticed in the past couple years that a lot of people don’t enjoy their birthdays. Not outright depressed about it, but they act like it’s no longer important. And this saddens me, because I think birthdays are still important.
Because I think a birthday signifies another year alive. You made it to your next birthday without the universe trying to kill you. You may be still fighting, but you are still alive to celebrate your next birthday. No one wants to be older and watch their body deteriorate but with age comes wisdom and that is something to be proud of. I’ve seen too much illness and death in my family and in the world in general in the last few months to not be thankful for aliveness, for being here, present.
And that’s all I’ve got to see about that.