It’s my Birthday! What does that mean? It means I’m 24 years old. Nothing else and nothing more. I grew up with the belief that birthdays are the most important day of the year for each individual person. Turns out, that is only true for kids. Once we reach a certain age, our special day is not so special anymore. Does this bother me? Not really. Especially now that I have a kid of my own.
Every day I am reminded that I am no longer the point which the Universe revolves around. That’s a scary thought. It’s funny that it took me nearly a quarter of a century to realize that; and I am not offended by it at all. Today concretes that knowledge even more, especially when anyone asks me what I want for my birthday. I think about it and my answer has been, “I don’t know,” every time. That’s not completely true, though. I know what I want.
I know what I want. My husband, the person that makes me feel special every day. My son, the kid that can make my heart burst each time he smiles. My family. There is no gift in the Universe that could be better than that and I know this will be the best birthday yet.
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