Yesterday was my birthday. The big 41. Not such a bit deal really. Not a big a deal as 40 was last year. 40 was a real milestone. This year... I hardly noticed the ol' birthday. Work bought a cake to celebrate. My parents took me and Camie out for dinner last night. My friend Lisa and her hubby took me out tonight. My brother called from Eureka to wish me a happy birthday.
All in all... a very low key birthday. Which, honestly, suits me just fine.
41 isn't all that old (and if you think 41 IS old, keep your cotton-picking opinions to yourself), but somehow, with the years whizzing by so fast now, it just doesn't seem so important to me that each birthday be celebrated. Don't get me wrong, I'm very happy when someone takes the time to note my birthday and wish me well. I appreciate that very much. I'm just not feeling celebratory in my own mind. It's just not that big a deal.
I think from here on out I'm only gonna make a big deal out of the milestones. 45, 50, 55, etc.
After 65 though, I'll go back to celebrating every year, cuz, ya know... each year starts becoming significant again.
I think at 75 I'll start celebrating each month.
At 80, if I'm still here, anyone else still here can join me every Monday at the coffee shop for a "I'm still here" celebration.
At 85, the celebrations will be daily, in the morning, each time I open my eyes.
One day, there will be a final celebration. At that one I hope to see all my old friends gathered around.
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