A few months back my wife and I attended a social gathering of some friends and folks with common interests. One of the attendees was a lady who was celebrating her 45th birthday and the hosts were quite encouraging about everyone wishing the woman a happy birthday. They wanted us to help bring joy and happiness to her day. When I wished the woman a happy birthday she grumped at me. “I wish we could just let it go. I hate having birthdays. I’m 45, single and hate my job.” Well, first and foremost, you can bet I didn’t say another word to her about her birthday, but second… is having birthdays a bad thing? Is being single? Her job is a discussion for a different day.
I have a rather unique outlook because I’m a Leap Year baby – so I only really have a birthday once every four years. I usually celebrate on the 28th of February and through an odd twist of fate (adoption) I didn’t even know I was actually a Leap Year child for sure until I was forty years old. Now that I’m in my mid-fifties I take great delight in celebrating my approaching 14th birthday, but I definitely don’t deny my age or feel any angst about aging. There are several reasons for this outlook.
I believe my biggest challenge with disliking birthdays is… the option sucks. The only way to stop having birthdays is to die. No thanks. For the few people I’ve met who say they see…
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The remainder of this essay can be found in the book “Farther Down The Road”
Farther Down the Road – Where does your life’s road lead?
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CTJ1B2QR
