My husband is one of those people who expects a big to-do every year on his birthday. He wants a party, and a parade float, and a blimp flying overhead. My husband would love it if Iron Maiden was playing a special concert just for him. Every single person who sees him must wish him a happy birthday. It is the day of his birth, and therefore a grand day for celebration. Larry basks in the glory that is his day. He is all about the birthdays.
I don't do that.
Never mind that very few people not related to me remember my birthday. Never mind that it's summer, and everyone is gone for their vacations. Maybe when I was younger I would wallow in self-pity about all that, but these days I am just happy that I am still breathing. I still have all my fingers and toes. I can still speak, still see, still mostly hear. I can still remember who I am and where I am. Other than that, it's just another day for me. Yep. Just another day that I get to spend with my son and my husband and my family. That is what is truly worth celebrating.
Oh, and there's cake.
