Today is my birthday.
I am so not a birthday person – my kids probably feel short-changed in their minimalist childhood birthday celebrations but, what can you do?
Anyway, for the last week my family has been saying, “Oh, next Tuesday is your big day.”
Then this morning, MCB gave me a treasure trove of treats and I was actually caught off guard.
“Presents? Really? Huh.”
Bless his heart – he loves birthdays so much that I am probably a total killjoy.
Then I went to work.
Peter asked, “You’re working on your birthday?”
It never crossed my mind not to. What the hell else would I do?
Maybe I am a killjoy; especially for myself.
Then I tried something; someone came into the cafe who I’ve known for a long time and I know he wouldn’t snicker at my 51 years.
“Can I tell you a secret?
“It’s my birthday.”
I never ever announce my birthday to anyone, but this is the new me (at least the me that I am trying on for size. The me that maybe doesn’t believe that other people should be avoided at all costs)
Then I told someone else. We talked about the 50’s being the best years of life.
I stopped telling people after that. I’d garnered enough attention for one day.
But I want to clarify, my lack of enthusiasm for this special day has nothing to do with the fact that I am aging. I am truly one of those people who doesn’t freak out about advancing in years (although there are times when I feel like I am older than everyone else in the room.)
I’ve stopped worrying about being cool. I’m saying “yes” to a lot more these days, because, why not. I’m not so concerned with offending people or having everyone like me or being in the “in” crowd, or whatever else.
Fifty brought a new nonchalant attitude. Fifty-one is expanding on the theme.
So, so far, 17 hours into it, 51 is totally working for me.