On May 15th, I celebrated my birthday. While I’m an incredibly transparent person (sometimes too transparent, according to my sister), I think I shall abstain from revealing my age to all of you out of respect for my own dignity. I’m not old, but I’d prefer to keep the illusion that I’m in my prime.
Being born in the midst of the busy season on our family farm means that, in the past, my birthday has sort of taken the back burner. It gets celebrated every year, but here and there, it feels more like a chore for the people celebrating it than not, and for this reason, I’ve always sort of shied away from birthday recognition and appreciation, as ridiculous as that sounds. I try to convince myself that it’s just a birthday and that everyone has one in hopes of not feeling disappointed on the actual day.
This year, I was pleasantly taken aback by the number of people who messaged me to wish me a happy birthday. I heard from folks I certainly wasn’t expecting to hear from, and my sister, of course, made me feel like the most significant individual on the face of the planet. She always does, and I’m so grateful for her and her presence in my life.
My husband, Blaine, also ensured I felt the love on my birthday. His own birthday is four days before my own, so we always celebrate together; we went out for dinner at The Keg, somewhere we both enjoy and appreciate, and his gifts were thoughtful and far too generous, as always.
I guess, despite my efforts to not acknowledge my own birthday, I have plenty of people in my life who forced me to embrace it and, furthermore, enjoy it. It was a nice day, and I’m grateful for all of the love I received.
Photo by Adi Goldstein on Unsplash
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