It flew by like a whisper.

No candles, no singing, nothing to unwrap. Just a huge sigh of relief that there were no surprises and no fuss. Because that’s all I really want–normal.

Just the “Happy Birthday” banner hung up in the dining room, a manageable amount of texts, cards and phone calls from special people, and lunch out sans kids with my guy.

I don’t know why I’ve never loved birthdays. Don’t get me wrong, I’m super glad I’m alive.

Maybe because I’m an introvert, I’d rather it just be another day. And hopefully nice and sunny. Because I’m pretty sure I’m solar powered.

The one day I smile a little easier and get to joke and say things like, “you have to be nice to me today because it’s my birthday” to my kids. And gift myself with a milkshake and skip my morning workout.

It was a normal day–helping a co-worker, getting ready to host a church event in our home for 26 tweens, and knowing from my toes to my nose that God had a reason to put me here on earth. Ephemeral. Nothing you could capture and post on Instagram.

Feeling an abundance of thanks for the glance in the rearview mirror that showed a mountain of daily blessings piled higher than I can see, and knowing it’s more than I deserve.

A fresh wave of dreaming and wondering what’s next because although my life has been pretty amazing thus far, I know the best is yet to come.


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