Baby Me, on my first birthday
Today is my birthday. I like birthdays - yours and mine. I like cake and balloons and candles and presents and good wishes and cake. Love that cake. Today I am forty-nine. It feels a little odd to be pressing up against fifty, knowing the AARP Magazine will start being delivered to my house soon, and I will be looking at it through those little reading glasses you get at Rite-Aid.
The part about growing older that I hadn't anticipated is all of the physical upkeep. Thank God for the doctors and dentists and hairdressers and aestheticians and people that make me work out that are all on call to assist the project that is me. As I yank myself out of bed in the mornings, I feel as if I should be pulling into the living room to meet a pit-crew.
I am grateful for every one of my forty-nine years. I hope to have a time where I can look back on this birthday and shake my head that I was thinking about being "older." I hope to know what really old is like. Perhaps in another forty-nine years.
Today I will try to keep in mind that right now, this second, is the youngest I can be.
Today I will eat cake.