I’m about to have (yet another!) birthday. Before last night I was feeling quite bleak about it, thinking that time is running out, and that I’ll never accomplish all the things I’d like to, never see all the places I want to see, never master all the challenges facing me, never read all the books I’d love to, never connect sufficiently with all the people I’d want to, and never learn all the things I want to learn. “Time is the enemy,” I kept thinking all day as I wrangled with stupid internet problems. Mind you, I do not have a terminal illness as far as I know, so it was just depressive thinking about inevitable endings and limitations.
Meanwhile, a bit of context: I was sitting at home on a rainy day, looking out at my beautiful garden, having done a rigorous workout in my fully equipped gym, intermittently chatting with my loving son and future daughter-in-law, petting the cat.
That evening, my husband came home, and in an excited, conspiratorial tone, spoke for the group, telling me we were all going to some new restaurant in Sanford, Maine. (?????) It was just a bit fishy, as Sanford is the nondescript, country town you go through to go to our lake, not a place for a special birthday. I knew something was up when “en route,” we turned into the driveway of our good friends Kathy and John, who greeted us with a wonderful surprise party complete with “Happy Birthday Susan!” signs all over their giant, food and drink-filled kitchen. The evening was filled with fun and laughter, as we told stories, ate, drank, and played “Catch Phrase,” as though there was a winner’s prize worth millions. Then this morning, my family again treated me like a queen, as we celebrated at a lovely brunch, telling jokes, opening presents, and marveling at the persistent rain.
So, as I finish this post, I’m now one year older, with obviously less time ahead, but lots more loving and living to do, and much to be thankful for.
Happy Birthday to me!