Tuesday, December 2, 2014

Happy Birthday!

I turned thirty-four on Sunday.  I woke to breakfast in bed.  Mary is only twelve, but she makes the creamiest scrambled eggs.  I lingered over them before I plunged into my day.  Then there were songs, and chocolate, and special gifts, and hugs, and phone calls, and laughter, and prayers of gratitude "for Mama's thirty-four years on the planet," and cake with sprinkles, and pistachio ice cream, and a long hot bath.  It was a wonderful day.

I only thought about aging twice.  Once when Beth let me know that I'm so old that she can't imagine ever being my age, and once when the ladies at church told me that I'm much too young to understand menopause.  I suppose I'm a grown up, but am I young one or an old one?

As always, Raffi knows just what to say.

1 comment:

  1. I ask myself the same question. The evidence is all around me - as in I have a 34 year old daughter - but I don't feel any older than that myself. Glad you had a good birthday. Your birth day was a good one for me.