Blog
I turned 55 this year. My birthday is in January, in the Midwest. I often associate it with ice and snow storms. It’s never been the most fun. We used to drive to Chicago for my birthday dinner or lunch and I can’t tell you how many times that plan needed to change. For my sweet sixteen birthday party a portion of my guest list got stuck in a snow storm at a religious retreat in the Northwoods unable to get back and enjoy my Kermit the Frog birthday cake. I am, and always will be, a Rainbow Connection fan.
As a child, my mom would plan great parties, but never too close to my birthday because people were on vacation. Presents came on Hanukah and were often my “Hanukah/Birthday” gift. Two for one, as it were. As an adult, I realize why I make a big deal out of 8 presents for the holiday and a separate one for a birthday. My eldest son’s birthday is in the middle of December, he is in the same boat.
People would come back from their holidays and everyone would talk about what they had done on their vacations, and my birthday, on the cusp of return, was a mere flash of memory. Sometimes people would just forget. Busy time.
It has taken me a long time to come to learn how to enjoy my birthday.
My son, Aaron, was born 15 years ago. He is considered chronically ill and medically complex. We were told he would not live past 3 years of age. When he hit that 3rd year we had a big party. Until this pandemic season we continued to have one every year. We invite family, friends, doctors and therapists, teachers and nurses. A thank-you to our “village” that has helped us make it to 5, then 10, then 15 years. Every year I say to Aaron, “Ok, one more year.” This is my wish every year. We have been lucky. He listens to his mother.
Over the years, this idea of one more year, every year, has helped me appreciate my own turn around the sun. It has helped me spin my winter doldrums into hopeful wishes. Aaron is always teaching me things: this is his most wonderful gift. He teaches others just by being in this world. He gives and gives and gives, love and knowledge and wisdom just because he exists. This is the super power of my child.
Our family is guaranteed nothing. None of us are. But for me, I think about the day I won’t have the opportunity to say those few words to my child , “Ok, just one more year.” The year he doesn’t listen to his mother, the year that will be. Aaron is not long for this world. It is hard to accept the clarity of the statement. It is a reality on which our family does not dwell. This year, the pandemic has so often reminded us of this truth.
This year I have gone out of my way to make sure people enjoy their birthday with a call, a text, or a FB post. I don’t think I would have ever appreciated social media as much as I do, this year, on my birthday. To be thought of, if only for those few letters, HBD, on so many posts. I am so lucky. For those of us that will be lucky to celebrate a birthday this year, let’s just ask for another and hope we listen to ourselves. Cheers to a great year ahead.
Wash your hands. Wear a mask. Be kind.
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