Just last Saturday I turned 45! I love my birthday much like I did when I was a little girl, but for very different reasons. As a child, I was excited about receiving tangible gifts from family and friends. Now, it is much different. I find my heart and soul beaming all day long. To proudly say, “It’s my birthday!” Saying that awakens an inner joy I usually keep under wraps on a regular basis. People always say, “Happy Birthday!” It is a moment where we really see one another. There is a mini celebration in all of us on our day! I love to learn of someone’s birthday, and have the opportunity to wish them a special day. Honestly, I want to wish everyone a great day every day. Actually, I do try to bring joy to every interaction possible.
My most favorite thing to receive on my birthday is phone calls. I receive them from the people who love me dearly who live near and far away. I receive cards and meaningful gifts that touch my soul too. Yet to hear a voice from someone who truly sees me reminds me that I matter in a way that spreads a smile across my face all day.
Technology allows even more connection, and I love that too. It may only be a quick text or a message on FB. Every one of those brightens my day. I feel witnessed. Not for doing something amazing, but for just being here. I love to laugh with my brothers on the phone, yet somehow on my birthday it is just a bit extra special. Maybe it is egocentric of me, yet I turn around and send so much love out into the world. It is a time when I feel worthy, valued, and loved. Other times of the year, I forget, as I am sure many of us do. I remembered how lucky I am to be alive, healthy, and loved. Today I allow myself to be fully me in all of my quirky ways. I let my freak flag fly freely on my birthday. This year I was delightfully gifted with many acts of kindness and selfless giving that brought joyful tears to my eyes most of the weekend.
This birthday number is significant as it shows me how the idea of old has greatly changed since I was 6. My parents were 35 years old the year I was born. By today’s standards that is young. Yet back in 1972 the majority of parents of my friends were significantly younger than 35. I remember looking around at the parents of my friends and thinking my parents were Old by the time I was 6. My mom would have been 41 at the time, and was starting to grey. Much like I have in my 40s, I really don’t care to color my hair that often. I have reached a point that I will color it when I want to for me, not to appear younger for other people’s comfort. Anyway, in my youthful wisdom I deducted from the age of other parents that my parents would be dead by the time I was 10. That would put them at the ripe old age of 45, which is how old they are in the featured picture of this blog. I have to say as I went to bed on the last day of my 44th year I wondered if I’d wake up at 45. Delightfully, I woke up alive and well! I am happy to announce that my parents are still alive and living well past the age of 45!
I hope to live this year as every day is a gift of life, because my 6 year old self thought my parents would be in heaven at this age.
Heavenly living after 45