Like all other babies born on September 11, my birthday will never be the same.
Lately I've awoken on my birthday morning with a sense of melancholy and tears just waiting to flow. Yesterday was no exception.
What do you do when your birthday is a national day of mourning? You feel like you can't fully celebrate without also remembering that horrible day in 2001. All day long you hear sad stories on the radio.
Should I celebrate on a different day? Somehow it doesn't seem right to arbitrarily pick another birth date.
As I get older, I find myself less and less of a party girl. I'm just such a homebody. Yesterday I told Bob that I was thinking of taking my birthday off work from now on and booking myself into a spa. I seem to need to do something soothing. But the more that I think about it, the more I think I'd just like to stay home. Turn off the phones. Brew myself a pot of good tea. Put on my soft slippers. And knit. Yep, that would be my perfect day.
Remind me next year to do that on my birthday, ok?