When I'm 64!

Over the years I've experienced many different kinds of birthdays. The birthdays of my youth were anticipated for months. There was never anything spectacular planned back then. But it was a special day just the same. It was such a treat to be the 'guest of honor' all day and nothing could compare to that glorious feeling of finally being a year older.

It's no wonder things change so much as we get older. Most obviously that heady rush of being a year older has become a different feeling entirely. Monday I actually appreciated the fact that I was still only 63. Because the older you get the less fun the aging process is. Of course, we all know the alternative and that makes piling on the years quite acceptable; but racking up another year does not generate the same feeling it did when we were a kids.

So as we get older and have children of our own, birthdays evolve into something much more laid back. In fact, some years that special day barely causes a ripple in the day-to-day routine. My mother was selfless and loving, a real saint with a clever sense of humor. Those attributes combined one year, when we kids were young and dumb, to make her tell us that her birthday was September 31st. September 2nd, her real birthday, came and went and was just another day. As the end of the month neared, I realized that there was no September 31st and it made me sad. This was the time in my life when birthdays were important and I couldn't understand her not wanting to celebrate hers. Now I think that she thought we were old enough and smart enough to catch the ploy before it was too late but sadly we weren't. She never got away with that again and we had lots of September 2nd birthday celebrations after that but skipping her special day that year always bothered me.

As I grew older, I learned first hand that life in general sometimes takes priority over birthdays. We've all had birthdays that were barely acknowledged and I think that always leaves us with kind of an empty feeling. Maybe it's something associated with that wild anticipation that upcoming birthdays generated when we were children. That feeling that for just one day, we were the most special one.

Yesterday was my 64th birthday. I remember when 64 was really old. I remember when the Beatle's wondered if someone would still need them and still feed them when they became 64. Man, that was a long time ago. And now at warp speed it's arrived. I'm 64.

And it was one of those birthdays that we all secretly hope we'll get. All my kids couldn't be here but two of them were. I got to talk to all four of the others including the one in Iraq. I got emails and ecards starting at 6:30 in the morning and, since I'd recently joined Facebook, I got greetings from many people that I seldom see or talk with. I still don't know how that works but it sure was awesome hearing from them.

Anna and Jenna put on a birthday performance in the back yard.

I was treated to anything and everything I wanted at Designer Desserts in Valparaiso and dinner at Olive Garden. We came home and I opened cards and gifts and ate cake & ice cream.

And Beth wrote a post announcing to everyone that it was my birthday. I'm still amazed at the number of people that visited my blog and left a greeting. That's what's so great about this whole bloggy world. The people that frequent it are warm and kind and generous. So many took the time to help make my day extra special that I'm still reeling and still smiling.

Thank you so much to everyone who helped make me feel so special.

Even when I'm 64.