Dear Reader,
I like birthdays again.
I loved my birthday as a kid. I had my friends over, we played games, once I received a Hulk Hogan doll, and ate cake.
As I aged I grew less social, more bookish, and I desired fewer material things since my family’s financial situation had improved. Books were the way to my heart then. Everything which made birthdays important to me as a kid became unimportant and so too birthdays were unimportant to me.
Also, I think I felt sad about my social situation and chose to ignore my birthday the way some singles ignore Valentine’s day.
Yesterday I celebrated my birthday with my wife. I woke up next to my most favorite person in the world who by this time had learned I care little for gifts and knows I prefer experiences as presents. Books, by now, are out because of the library. She did that by having my friends surprise me for lunch at the Central Market Cafe. Can you see why I love her?
I’ll always remember the surprise.
Last night, it occured to me birthdays don’t have to be only about presents and good company. I’ve decided my birthday is my reminder to be grateful for all the people who have made up my life.
I’m going to write thank you notes and perhaps one day give gifts to those who’ve made my life wonderful on my birthday.
Yesterday I started by writing thank you notes to my family and a few friends. Next year I’ll take it one step further.
I’m celebrating my existence with good company, great experiences, and now by celebrating those who’ve made my life something worth living.
Cheers and luck,
Eric
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