I used to love every birthday. It was “my special day” and no matter what year…how old I got, what situation I was in – that was my day to celebrate.
Don’t get me wrong – I totally understand that the alternative to having a birthday is not what I’m looking for – things are just different now.
I mean, now I don’t get any special daddy things – he was always kinda clever with his method of wishing happy birthday, or hiding cards, or…well, just being dad.
I thought last year would be the hard one. But no. This year isn’t much better … and to top it off, it’s raining so that always puts me in a wonderful mood.
I should be ecstatic. I’m 50, I’m married to someone I love fiercely. I have a great job, I’m starting my own business too…but geez. No dad really makes me blue.
This seems to be a blog of two line paragraphs. Except now.
So, Happy Birthday to me – and, well….not.