Things I Learned on My Birthday (Which is as Good a Reason as Any to Keep Celebrating Birthdays.)

 

My first thought upon waking yesterday morning was something like, ”Well, I may be 79 now, but at least I have another year in my seventies before I’m an officially-old “80.” And then the horrible truth hit me. We don’t count from the beginning of a year. A baby is not a year old when she is born. She won’t be a one-year-old until she has lived that entire first year.  So I have lived my entire seventh decade. The seventies are all behind me, and today marks the first day of my eighth decade—my 80’s! GAH! How did that happen?

 

OK. I’m officially old. So what do I have to show for it? I’m still learning stuff, which is a good sign, I think. Yesterday we had several torrential downpours, along with the unwelcome thunder and lightning that sends the cats under the bed. But each time, the rain was followed by an immediate burst of blazing sunlight. Sun splotches on the floors brought the cats out to bask in them again—and to remind me that scary events are usually followed by joyful ones. You just have to come out from under the bed and enjoy them.

 

Yesterday was also Kentucky Derby day, and as several of my friends reminded me that I always rooted for the gray horse. But, alas, this year there was no gray horse. I had no way to choose one over the other.  And then I was reminded once again that color doesn’t matter.  Like cats, which are all gray in the dark, so, on a muddy track, all horses are mud-colored by the end of the race.

 

I must note one exception here. Have you seen the picture of the end of the race, when the horses were cooling down? Horses and jockeys all wear the same mud color—except for Justify, who was out front for almost the entire race. His coat is still dark, and his jockey’s jersey is still white. Lesson? When you’re the leader of the pack, no one kicks mud in your face.  But, I must remember, he won the race by kicking mud on everyone else. Maybe that’s a lesson about what not to do.

 

So I take one last look back at the list of those who sent birthday wishes. The postings come from next door and down the street, but also from around the world. I see addresses in Turkey, Australia, Ireland, England, India, Lebanon, Canada, France, and Thailand. Some come from folks nearly as old as I am—grade school classmates, long-lost cousins, colleagues from my teaching days, and former students who sat in my classes 25 years ago. Others are new friends—young writers I met in this year’s Camp NaNoWriMo Challenge and fresh college graduates making the leap from campus service organizations to full-fledged Lions Club members. Each one arrived trailing a cloud of memories and offering another chance to smile.

 

I think I'll keep counting!