My birthday is twelve days away and has become quite the topic in our household. There’s the obvious reason, which is that ALL OF APRIL is reserved for the celebration of me…and also deciding how and when to do as many parties as we can. Will there be a theme? Dinner at a nice place? Kids or no kids? And if no kids, when is the party with the angels/monsters?
I think all days of birth are major freakin events. Mine, my wife’s, my family’s days, my co-workers, all my friends. I endorse all celebrations. I believe every year is magical and equally, if not more, important than previous milestones. I find incredible significance in making it around the sun another revolution. It’s a big deal! Eat ALL the cake. All of it. Smash it all over your face. Birthdays are that exciting to me. Now.
My parents have never been great at making big to do’s for the anniversary of your birth. They mean well and appreciate and love, but they are not the ones who do grandiose gestures of love or try really hard to embarrass you out in public or surprise you with all of your close friends. Mostly because that is not their nature and that is not their style. This has GOT to be a HUMONGOUS reason why I first began to love birthdays. It is not, however, the only one. In my previous relationship, my birthday was no big deal. Let’s chalk that up to it wasn’t where I was supposed to be and those were never my people. How do you celebrate someone that just doesn’t belong with your tribe? I get it. I never liked it the other way around, either. With that said, I had over a decade of no big hoorah made over April 10th. This is not a poor me post. I promise. Just stick with me.
My life quite literally changed as I moved from 29 to 30. I had been in a horrible situation for the better part of a decade and had reached a point where ENOUGH finally meant JUST THAT. I had stopped thinking about what if and had focused on HOW. As my thirtieth birthday drew closer, so did my anticipation of a new beginning. I was hyper-focused on finding that one second of insane courage that I needed and the promise of my thirties really felt like they were bringing NEW LIFE to my being. I anticipated this one. BIG TIME.
And I couldn’t wait for thirty-one. I began to name my birthdays with fun little rhymes or puns. This should come as no surprise to anyone. We pun everything in our life. So, it was thirty wonderful. Followed by thirty two good to be true, dirty tree, and thirty four more. The last one wasn’t my best work. My apologies.
As I began to reflect over the last year and tried to find a new pun for my upcoming day, I started to think about what 35 meant to me. Really, I want some meaning behind it. Something more than just a day to dress up and feel special. What does that whole NEW ORBIT around the golden globe mean to me? The more thought I gave it, the more it became clear. This is it. My Halfsie. There’s no silly pun or rhyme for this gem. It has a whole new category and it is journey based. I am considering this my half-ways point in life.
Of course, once I decided upon this newfound title for my LIFE DAY, I immediately shared it with Kulia. She was insta-pissed. “How dare you think that you’re only living another 35 years after this!” She has not moved on from that argument. She loves me sooooo much that she cannot fathom only having that many more years left with me. It’s easy to focus on that aspect and I want to clarify that I, by no means whatsoever, believe that I am prophesizing my downfall. Not one bit. Really, it’s an awareness for my SELF. I spent so much of my previous years learning and failing, falling and dusting myself back off in ungraceful manners. I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted to be. I hadn’t mastered the art of mastering my facial expressions and I had lost the remote to my mouth filter. My first AT LEAST thirty years were NOT PRETTY, friends. Some humans can be path-less with their life and be super cute about it. I think my beauty has found me slowly, with age and wisdom. I plan on being supermodel status by the time I reach my elusive seventieth birthday.
What I’m trying to explain is that my half ways life celebration is to keep me from taking any days for granted, to continue to make me strive to better myself and inspire those around me, to continue to improve. If I hit the next milestone feeling like I kept on doing all of the above, MAN, I’ll be on cloud friggin nine. This birthday is a reminder to not be complacent. LIFE IS SHORT and I want to keep the goal in sight. And that is not to die at seventy. It is to reach seventy and feel like I made great contributions to humanity, in as many shapes and forms and ways as possible.
A friend was recently given days to live. Her body began to shut down and I don’t know how any of her people will ever be the same when she passes. Life does this to us, sometimes. It takes someone we know and removes them from our lives forever and we are left behind to help each other figure out the why and how for moving on. We never know who will be next and we will always wonder what could have been done differently. We try to not be sad about it, even as we await the inevitable and yet, our hearts grow heavy and big sacks of feelings just plaster themselves into our throats to make breathing hard. How do you say goodbye to a friend? How do you watch your friends say goodbye to their best friends? How do you help pick up the people that can’t imagine their lives without her? I never have the right words for these things. No soothing words for these events and I know we will all be there one day. Mine just might be my 7-0.
And if I make it past seventy?!?
Well, then it’ll be a welcome surprise to everyone still around. And I will be even more grateful for more spins around the sun. Love with your whole heart everyone who touches your life. Consider that they may not always be around you. Remind them how much they mean to you and make their birthdays the BEST DAYS ON EARTH.