Eight Years and I Realize It’s a Big Deal

My birthday is quickly approaching. Might explain why this week seems to be flying by, and it occurred to me that this is the first time, in eight years, that I will not be home for my birthday. Just the thought brings tears to my eyes.

It seems small, trivial almost. A big deal hasn’t been made out of my birthday since I was a kid, but Mom always managed to make it seem like a big deal. And it is a big deal. I just never realized it before because birthdays have been familiar occasions. Family meal. Dinner with friends. Cards in the mail. Familiar.

This year, nothing is familiar.

Damn this post is hard to write.

Yeah, so, this year, nothing is familiar, and that’s hard. I’d expect to be familiar with unfamiliarity by this point. The only thing familiar this year was the temporary place I stayed the first couple of months I was here. And it was temporary so I didn’t get comfortable. A constant state of flux.

Sometime during the softball game Monday, I tossed out a half-hearted invite to a brunch I was putting together for Sunday. I’d invited a few workmates and I figured I’d toss it out there for softball too. I was expecting most of them to be busy, perhaps one or two might be available. Nope. Most of them jumped at the chance. My small gathering has blossomed into a much bigger one, requiring a bigger venue.

So you know what? This year I’m embracing the “big deal” and making it one. Creating a good, new memory.