Birthdays

Today is my birthday. Do you think I would be allowed to forget it? I mean, when I was a kid many years ago, I loved birthdays and wanted to hear “Happy Birthday”. But that was then and this is now. I had a second thought. Wanting to forget is akin to forgetting my Mother. After-all, she made my birthday possible. It was a day of birth for her, too. I actually considered that several years ago when I sent her a birthday card for my birthday. She was surprised and pleased.

It started early this morning. A friend traveling out of town took time to call me with a birthday.

When I was working on a story, A Facebook message flashed on my screen telling me someone had posted on my page. I checked it out and found more than one. This was repeated several times during the day. You guessed it. Birthday greetings. I had to smile. It was nice to be remembered. Everyone is busy, and yet, they took time to be thoughtful.

I admit, I have gone back and forth on this birthday thing. When I was teaching high school, it was common for birthdays of students, teachers, and office personnel to have their birthdays announced on the intercom. I didn’t want that, so I requested mine be omitted. I knew at least one of my students would surely ask, “How old are you”? I could do without that. Pride? or what?

So, when the morning announcements were given, I had escaped.  It didn’t last long. Just before lunch, my classroom door opened and in walked a couple of my friends. They were carrying a wrapped gift, a lunch and slice of cake!

My secret was out.

The room sounded like a beehive in my room with questions from every direction. They wanted to know why by birthday had not been announced. Birthday greetings were expressed with excitement. And, then there came THAT question from one of my male students. He was verbally pounced on by a couple of girls coming to my defense, “You don’t ask a lady that question”. Poor kid. He was embarrassed and said no more, except “Happy Birthday, Mrs. Larsen”. It spread from class and back again, even to those in previous classes. It lasted until the final bell. That proved none of my students hated me even when they didn’t always enjoy classwork.

When you really thing about it, a birthday  should be a happy day. I’ve had so many things to be grateful for all these years of my life. I have a wonderful family, my mother is 94 and she has her memory. I have hundreds of friends. I have a roof above my head and walls to keep me safe. I have plenty of food and more clothes than I need. I have faith and hope in the future. I can write stories and articles on my website and blog. I have the opportunity to write a couple of books. I’m included in a couple of writers’ groups writing an anthology.

My gratitude list could, like yours, go on and on. One thing leads to another and then another.

I hope I have many more birthdays. How else can I get to be 100? That would be wonderful, if I can hold onto my gratitude list and make it grow.

 

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