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My Birthday
Next week is my birthday.
I haven’t really felt like celebrating my birthday since my Mom died. I think it’s because she always made it a big deal and made me feel extra special. Since she’s been gone, I don’t have that anymore and it seems like just another day.
I remember that when I turned 21, she gave me 21 birthday cards along with my presents — and no, there weren’t 21 presents. But that’s the kind of thing she’d do.
In 2019, I ignored my birthday. I couldn’t imagine having a birthday when the person who birthed me wasn’t here anymore.
Then, in 2020, we were in the middle of Covid, and we couldn’t have gone out or done anything even if I’d wanted to.
This year, I celebrated early, with some very dear friends. We had a great time, and you’ll read about that another day.
Now that I’m back home, I’m still feeling a little melancholy about next week. Not as bad as it was last year, though. To make it more festive, I decided I’m going to make myself a birthday cake with my favorite frosting (homemade buttercream).
Baby steps.
