Another day, another year, another [possible] birthday. Another anniversary of the Ultimate And Original Rejection. And speaking of rejection, for some reason I literally (and I do mean literally) could not pay people to have lunch with me today. But really, should I be surprised? When I work so hard to push people away — and yes, I’m including my [former] blog readers here — it’s surprising that there is anyone left.
Which is why the phone call I received last night (technically very early today) surprised me — a friend called me at 12.05 am, someone I hadn’t talked to in over a year. Maybe I’ll write more about her later, but for now I just wanted to note her tenacity and her unwavering memory of (and unapologetic celebration of) people’s birthdays. Even the birthdays of curmudgeonly hermits like me who, at least on the surface, work very very hard to blow her off.
I am so glad that she called. I try and tell myself that my birthday doesn’t matter, that it’s just another day, that I’m really too old for birthdays (so clever! so original!), and — new this year — that *my* birth day is not the one that matters anymore.
But of course it matters as much as it ever did, and now more than ever.