I had a birthday this past week and I am glad that I lived another 365 days, but I’m definitely past the age where birthdays are one of the most exciting days of my year. I remember the birthdays that were so important because each one got me one year closer to 16 — the best birthday ever, the day I got my driver’s license. Then, I remember each birthday that was so important because it got me one year closer to 21 — the best birthday ever, the day I could buy alcohol.
And many years later, I remember the details of those two birthdays very well. They were milestone birthdays.
The milestone birthdays that happen now are not so important because of what you get to do because you reached them, but important because you reached them. Doing anything after them is sorta gravy….
Regardless, I realized I am really lucky. Many people sent birthday wishes and I felt blessed that so many people took time from their day to acknowledge that my mother expelled me from her birth canal. (You know, the mother ought to really get the messages on a birthday…)
And I realized how lucky I am to be married to a man that understands me. Matt bought 43 scratch-off lottery tickets and hid them around the house. He knew that I would enjoy finding them and the quick rush of scratching them off. And some of his hiding places were clever, but he also took into account that I’m not a morning person so he didn’t make it difficult: in my shoes, in the Keurig, under the faucet, in the dog food…the man knows me.
I won $9…okay, I’m not that lucky, but lucky enough.