Thirty-Three

I wanted to have a Favorite Things party for my birthday. Either that, or a Cereal Bash. Wouldn't that have been fun? I had those ideas months ago and wrote them in my planner under today's date so that I could remember my own genius when I went about throwing myself a rockin' bash. I was going to invite ev-er-y-bo-dy! I love birthdays. And parties. And celebrations of every kind. The mere thought of smelling blown out birthday candles makes me smile and my heart pitter-patter. Gathering friends is even more of a thrill. 

But first came Hawaii (and before that near-single mom madness), and then the stomach flu, and before I knew it it was May 7th and I was eating a bowl of Raisin Bran while scooting my favorite people out the door to school and work. Not exactly what I had in mind. Whose idea was it to make Monday birthdays legal anyway?!

Mostly, today was just a Monday. There was laundry to fold, toilets to scrub and groceries to buy. We had piano practice and homework. The boys still had to do their chores and I still had to make them dinner. And let's not even talk about how the girls woke up in the 5 o'clock hour and decided to scream and cry and whine and fight for, you know, the next twelve hours. Yep, it was a Monday.

But also, today was anything but ordinary. Today was a beautiful witness of the goodness around me. Those melancholy morning feelings of mine were quickly forgotten thanks to the kindest words and the kindest gestures done by the kindest family and friends a girl could ever have. There was a steady stream of texts and calls and birthday emails. People sang rousing renditions of the birthday song, wrote messages that made me weepy and dropped off the most thoughtful gifts and treats and all along I just kept thinking: I am so lucky. I am so blessed. I am so happy that they are mine and I am theirs. 

James came home just in time for homemade Hula Pie and took on bedtime duty so that I could enjoy some fresh air and silence on a walk around the neighborhood. This city's jasmine bushes have long had my heart and tonight the air was so sweet with their fresh blossoms that I couldn't help but think that even Mother Nature knew it was my birthday; oh what a gift she gave me. As I was rounding the corner, nearly home after the most enjoyable stroll, I noticed the sky for the first time. It was so subtle some may have mistaken it for pure white, but all of the sudden I noticed unnamed shades of pink and blue and gray that were soft and calm and natural and so beautiful that I couldn't help but stop and stare. I pulled out my camera, desperate to preserve the feelings of peace and contentment welling up in my heart, but even after the snap I still couldn't will my feet to move. I looked to my right and in the distance could see some hot orange and yellow remnants of what was probably a most-impressive sunset, but as though the brilliance didn't exist my eyes naturally came back to the unassuming painting above my very own street. I saw the sky; I saw my birthday.

I am a lover of big parties and bold sunsets and sometimes they are mine to enjoy, but on my thirty-third birthday I am especially grateful for beauty found in simplicity. I am alive. I am loved. For those reasons and so many more this birthday may have been one of my best yet.