...and thus begins my last year as a “thirty-something”. Of course merely saying that kind of puts the whole use of the phrase “thirty-something” to waste and gives away my age. Oh well.
I let too many days slip by without notice. Holidays included. It’s not good. Time passes too quickly to not be mindful of it. I think that’s one of the points of having a holiday – if for no other reason to notice the passage of time. I’m not having any kind of party. We probably won’t even go out to dinner. There’ll be no cake or candles. We really don’t have any specific plans until next week. The actual day of my birthday will be pretty uneventful. So, I’ll need to try and do something – if for no other reason so it doesn’t slip by unnoticed by even myself.
It’s kind of ironic, when did birthdays become so un-fun? Zachary walks through a grocery store and can pick out a dozen things he wants for his “next birthday” (yes, he just had his birthday). These presents he wants can range from things as simple as a box of cereal to as complicated as a trampoline. But even though it’s just barely a week past his birthday, the excitement for the next one is already building. But for me? I feel like something is missing. It’s not that I dread birthdays because of age (although I do dread getting older in general), it’s like there’s still that anticipation but for something that never comes.
I don’t know. I do know that I can probably learn a lot from this guy. I hope if I lived to be 113 I could be so eloquent.