It's my birthday today. A big one. A huge one. One so big that Punk threatened to decorate my cake with miniature grim reapers. And for somebody like me, this is a big deal.
As long as I can remember, I have hated getting older. I especially despised birthdays. After the age of six, birthdays became just a milestone - a passage of time. I was one year farther away from remembering my mom, and one year close to my own demise - which I was positive would happen in less than 30 years. (When paramedics came running into the house on the morning of my eighth birthday and declared my grandpa dead, it didn't exactly help the cause celebre' of birthdays. Neither did attempting to run away from home on my tenth. I don't have a great track record here.) I have cried on every birthday since age 16. It's been like watching the sand pour through a giant hourglass at an all too alarming rate.
So I'm pretty surprised to find, that although I've arrived at a significant milestone in my birthday career, I'm not the least bit upset. In fact, I'm feeling pretty groovy about it. It's not just the fact that I've kept a good ten years ahead of the grim reaper (though I must admit it's a bonus), it's not that I've accomplished several things I've always hoped I would, or that I know I'm having cake tonight. It's more that I am terribly, wonderfully, utterly content with the direction my life is taking. I have friends who are funny and kind, kids who are intelligent and healthy, work that is fun and challenging, and a man that I fall in love with all over again at least three times a day.
So today I am going to watch the blizzard outside. I'm going to plug in the Christmas tree, turn on the fireplace and snuggle my babies - all 4 of them. Today, this is exactly where I want to be.