My birthday is less than a week away and I’ll be…..never mind…..after all, isn’t it just a number?  My big birthday joke is usually saying something like “yeah – I don’t look bad for 67” or some such largish number compared to my actual age.  Mouths drop open and I get gasps of agreement – thankfully!  Then I admit my real age and we all have a little chuckle over my little joke.  But this year I think I’ll pass on my little joke.  Somewhere along the way, birthdays ceased to be humorous!  I remember the days where I eagerly awaiting every single birthday.  Now it takes my kids to remind me that the day is imminent.  They are sweet about it – they want to know what I want for my birthday, what I want to do on my birthday, where I want to go out to eat on my birthday.  And quite honestly, it has been nice the last few years.  The kids are old enough to actually buy me something meaningful that leaves me touched and humbled over their sweetness.

But this year I’m tired.  Maybe it is my age but most likely it is stress that is causing me to question my life.  My house needs major repairs, I’m considering selling some of my beloved land, my daughter is struggling with an eating disorder.  Maybe one or the other would roll off my back but the combination is wearing at me.  But then I remember that tomorrow is another day and with a new day, comes new hopes and dreams.  I have a lot of natural optimism and tomorrow could be a turning point.  Who knows?  Maybe I’ll start looking forward to my birthday after all…………

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