I’m usually all about celebrating my birthday for a whole week. Proclaiming that it’s “MY BIRTHDAY WEEK! We’re gonna BBQ/eat at Trio/go rafting/watch movies/etc. etc… cuz it’s MY BIRTHDAY WEEK!”
But this year, I didn’t really want to. Didn’t want to make a fuss. Didn’t want the hoopla. I’m getting older, it’s okay that there isn’t a rager, a whole week celebrating me. [yeah, no, i know how self-involved i sound… rest assured.]
So, this weekend, we went to a nice dinner. [“we” being some ah-mazing friends who i’m so lucky to have. and, oh, p.s. today is my actual birthday.] And we did what we would just normally do on a weekend in Jackson. Adventures.
And when we were all laughing to ourselves on an island in the middle of the Snake River, with the Tetons as a backdrop, setting up a sign we found floating down the river, I couldn’t help but smile inside and out. I realized I’ve been celebrating this life, my life, almost every day.
This was not a special trip rafting for my birthday, to celebrate. This was an adventure so amazing, yet so common in our glorious lives of general celebration. I was so proud of my friends, my family, my community, myself… for celebrating relentlessly.
And, yes, I did it. I lived, breathed and survived another year. [i will accept many a congratulations for this.] But the wonderful thing is that I laughed and played and created and danced and loved and toasted and celebrated… the whole damn year.
wull hay. 