Today is my 12th annual 36th birthday. Yes, for 12 years now, I have been celebrating my 36th birthday.
My friends and family harass me a lot about deciding to stop at my 36th birthday. My 20 year old especially gives me a hard time. "Mom, do you honestly want people thinking that you had me when you were in high school?"
"Give it time son, and they'll think I had you when I was in kindergarten."
It has become some what of a family joke. Last year, my cake had candle numbers for 36 on it, and then 11 additional candles. I figure I am doing everyone a favor. If we were to actually put 48 candles on a cake, the chances that the entire thing would go up in flames is pretty big. I am saving the environment.
Two years ago, my kids decided to announce during the "Joys and Concerns" part of the church service a "Joy and Concern"... Joy that I was celebrating a birthday, and a Concern that it was my 10th annual time of celebrating my 36th birthday. Thanks, guys! Nothing like announcing that to the entire church. Actually, it was pretty funny... you could see everyone in the congregation trying to add the numbers in their head. I think I enjoyed that the most. After the service, I did have several people come up to me and tentatively ask: "So, you're 45 years old?" "Sure", I said. "45." Hey- I'll take it any way I can get it!
Seriously, though. The year I turned 36 was a world changing and shaking year. It was 2001.
My children were still cute and adorable, and their world revolved around their family. They were 8, 6, and 4. They played hard, they loved to sit on the floor around me and listen to stories before bedtime every night, and they still played with trains.
My Father was still alive. A little over a year later, his health began to rapidly decline. He had COPD, and the disease took a terrible toll on him.
My Aunts, the women who guided me to become the woman I am; all of them were still with us. Aunt Rosie, Aunt Joyce, and Aunt Marion. All 3 were my Dad's sisters. Amazing, strong, imaginative and successful women. I miss them all. Aunt Rosie's husband, Russell, was still alive. He was a kind and gentle soul. A farmer, he always took the time to point out the beauty in the world around us.
Within the year, Aunt Joyce and Uncle Russell were gone. A major part of the adults that formed my world had left me, and it was never quite the same again.
9-11 happened just weeks after my birthday. The world changed forever that day. So many lives lost, gone forever. The world as we knew it changed forever, and it's never been quite the same since.
I acknowledge that life has gone on in the 12 years since then. My Dad and all of his sisters have passed on. We've moved houses, and had two children go to college. I've faced some pretty intense personal crises, and I've finished a Master's Degree and attempted to find a job. I've watched all 3 of my children grow and thrive, and I am so proud of them, I could just bust.
But still, I like to hark back to the summer of 2001. A perfect summer, when the world was, in my mind, a perfect place to be. Don't mistake me, the summer of 2013 is pretty amazing too, but, my kids are grown now. One of them lives in his own apartment and is working full time on campus. Another one is working at a residential camp this summer. My awesome and amazing mother is still with us. My husband is healthy, even if he can be infuriating at times. I have friends who are there for me, no matter where the wind blows, or what happens. Most of all, our amazing world is still here, a beautiful place to live, full of joy, beauty, and challenges each and every day.
48 years of this amazing life. I really can't complain! It's been an awesome 48 years! I hope that I am given at least another 48 more to enjoy!
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