My birthday is coming up again soon in just a few weeks. And I gotta say… it’s incredibly strange. This will be my second birthday in pandemic lockdown.
The first lockdown birthday was a low-key affair, just me, the husband, and the pets. Ordered some delivery. This involved crab in the shell. Hilariously, we didn’t have anything to crack open the crabs. No nutcrackers. Nothing.
So I was using whatever I could to bash open the crabs. It worked okay, but the shells flew a bit. And my husband, bless his heart, quietly picked up the pieces of shell that unpredictably flew from my plate. Cleaned up the slight mess that got on our rug.
As I write this post, I have no idea what I’ll do for my birthday. Probably not much. And I’m okay with that. This past year has taught me to be grateful for things I take for granted. Surviving this past year has been enough of a gift. There’s no need to get greedy.
But I gotta say it’s weird to watch that age number tick up again. It really feels like I lost a year. Like I aged a bit without realizing it. It’s sort of like someone borrowed my car, drove cross country, and returned it to my garage. And like I’m going out to drive it with a higher mileage than it should have.
However, I can happily say one thing: If you take my age and divide it by two, I am definitely twice as happy as I was at that half-age.
Yes, I get older every year. That’s how it works. And eventually, your body does start to fall apart as the years rack up, one after the other.
But I’m also more comfortable in my own skin. I know myself better. And I find that I embrace joys more wholeheartedly and am less overwhelmed by the inevitable challenges that arise.
I’m growing older, yes, but I’m also growing happier.
It’s encouraging for sure. I’m hoping this continues to be the case.