I just celebrated my 56th birthday a week ago. I woke up to my friend dancing and singing the birthday song at the end of my bed before she left for work. Later, after I disentangled myself from the bed covers, I found crepe paper streamers taped all around the house. As the coffee perked I reached into the refrigerator for the milk for my cereal I found a stuffed frog in front of it.
I smiled and giggled. The child in me rejoiced. What a wonderful, whimsical thing for my friend to do. Other friends, and my sister and son telephoned during the day with wishes and laughter. To cap the day off, friends took me to an Irish pub for dinner. We clinked glasses and toasted to my birthday. As I looked about at their cheery faces and thought about the day, I found myself glad to be alive. I thought of all the people who were glad I was alive too. I sipped my Irish coffee and felt lucky. I don’t usually think of myself as lucky — nor does anyone who knows my life story. But I know some pretty special people and they think I am special too and somehow that makes life seem worthwhile. So here’s to another year.
Photos from Bing