Its my birthday today.
Even though my husband sang to me this morning, it doesn't feel like November the 10th. Maybe that's because its Spring instead of Fall. The season of greens, not the season of pumpkins. Everyday is getting warmer instead of colder.
I've thought back to so many past birthdays. My first one in Chile after I had been here for only two months. A birthday spent battling the flu in the Qatar airport. Some birthdays in Saudi with friends and werewolves. My first trip to France. One in Bermuda. My 21st hiking around a cloud forest with some really great gals. And so many before those with my family, some pie, and often even snow.
Maybe birthdays themselves can't be that special. They are just one more day that we are here. Plodding along, maybe with some cake. But they are a moment to stop, and think, and reflect on where we've been, where we're going, and who holds our hand along the way.