Birthday Girl
I love my birthday and always have. It’s my favorite day of the year. I’ve never bought into the whole not wanting to get older thing, or not owning my true age, which is 52 as of last week, in case anyone is wondering. Isn’t aging the goal, considering the alternative? So I say keep them coming; bring on all of the years!
Except 40. That was a tough one. But not because it was 40. It was tough because the school where I’d been principal had closed, and the way it was closed broke my heart. On top of that, the shiny promises of marriage had turned out to be one of the biggest disappointments of my life, which weighed heavily on my heart. The weather on my 40th birthday was lovely, just like this year, and I remember sitting on the bench outside the back door of our old farmhouse, gazing at the red barn and hill beyond, wondering how things had turned out the way they had.
Other than that one notable exception, my birthdays have all been pretty great. But it’s tough to pinpoint what it is that makes them so special. Growing up, Mom and Dad made a big enough deal about our birthdays, but nothing extravagant. Although Mom did plan a pretty epic surprise party for my sixteenth birthday. I’d been on a foreign exchange trip to the Soviet Union the summer before and it taught me, more than anything else, how lucky I was. So the surprise party meant more than my parents ever knew.
All of these later, I’m still thinking about gratitude as I celebrate another year on the planet. And it’s funny because I used to always say that I wasn’t lucky. I’ve never been into lottery tickets or gambling because that is the story I told myself since forever. Except, now that I’m in my fifties, I’ve changed my mind about that. I’m actually exceedingly lucky, for all sorts of reasons. Probably we all are, and it just takes a lifetime to figure that out.
Of course, there are definitely days when it feels like I don’t have my crap together. But I suspect that no one has their crap together. I should mention that I mostly think in curse words, and although I’ve considered writing the way I think, I’m also a middle school teacher. I don’t put much effort into hiding public me from my students because a) I think they probably need boring social media role models who don’t care how many followers they have, and b) they’re actual geniuses and would find me no matter what. So no swearing in our public writing because our school kids might read it.
Anyway, back to our crap going every which way. I may have come up with a hack for that: do at least one thing each day for which tomorrow you will be grateful. Today I completed a work project I’d been putting off, did a strength workout, and finished writing this. Three things! I’m a freaking rock star!!!
I’m going to ride that high, and the high of my birthday, for as long as possible. And if you find yourself anything less than elated when your birthday rolls around, feel free to reach out and I’ll remind you why your birthday is the best day, too. Now let’s eat come cake!