Tomorrow is my birthday. I say that to set the context here, not for setting out bread crumbs for ducks at the park. I'll be 47. There are two things that I've been thinking about for the last few days. The first is my gratitude that I'm still here. My sister died much too early at 45, and there was a time when I was pretty sure I'd be next and in short order. This translates as being able to let the little things go (often-sometimes). As though I've got some kind of perspective now that allows me to drop the things that aren't worth my time. The rude clerk, uncertainty about this or that, the fact that my house isn't as clean as I'd like.
The other thing is that the shows of birthday love scare me a bit. My dad sent a nice card and a check. He also sent a couple of packets of seeds, which I think is a fabulous idea and will do that for birthday cards in the future. Mr W got me a card, too. This is the first year he's gotten me anything for my birthday without prompting. He bought me a lollipop, too, and offered to do chores for me for a day. A friend came up from Denver last weekend and bought me dinner. We went out last night after spin class to eat and celebrate my birthday. It has been so nice to get the attention. With all of it, I get that feeling that there will be a cost for it. I know that's silly.
I'm happy to be here, and enjoying the ride.