I celebrated my birthday a couple of days ago without a bang. No fanfare, no party, no surprise whatever by anyone.
In spite of the absence of balloons and candles, it was a milestone, even just for me. Especially for me.
I never wondered what I'd be doing at this age. I never actually charted a dream alongside this age. I had, "when I'm 13...", "when I'm 18...", "when I'm 21...", "by the time I'm 30...", "definitely when I'm 40..." dreams and goals, but I can't recall one placed at my age. Although it's another year that takes me closer to the dreaded decade (at least for me), it's a nice number, and I gave myself a silent pat on the back for having made it to this age without looking like I'm this age. According to my harshest critics: all my children, no less... even if they had this baffled look on their faces. Undeniably, Facebook and text message greetings helped a lot, too.
