Today is my birthday. When I was little (see above), I loved my birthday. (Every child should be able to say as much). My birthday was magic, exciting, and full of surprises. On my birthday, I was made to feel truly special.
I still embrace this day each year. Thankfully, I have not become a grizzled grown-up who dreads getting older (yet). But the specialness of the occasion has changed a bit. No longer do I have a sleepover with a dozen of my closest friends, wear a construction paper crown, or blow out candles on a cartoon character cake. Like so many things, the joys of childhood have been replaced with more mature versions of bliss. There are still plenty of indulgences through which I peek over the table and stick my finger in the frosting of life…
Jewelry, for instance.
And of course, the almighty champagne.
Tonight, I raise my glass in a toast to the people responsible for all that specialness I felt as a child. To my mother and father, who ordered the cartoon cakes, fastened the makeshift crown, and were kept awake long into the night by the muffled conversations of a dozen giggling pre-teens. My birthday is a big reminder — but there are subtle hints every day — that my childhood was made beautiful by two individuals who ask for no gratitude, and yet I can never seem to thank them enough.