My birthday is this coming Friday, March 29.
Though I don’t care much about holidays, over the years, I have grown to like birthdays because they allow me to celebrate people special to me, including myself.
I haven’t always liked birthdays. In fact, I hated my birthdays as a kid (because my birthdays reminded me that I didn’t have many friends).
As a teenager, my birthdays were not much better.
Case in point, my 16th birthday, when I invited people to meet at the ice skating rink, and nobody showed up – which ended up being a good thing because it turned out when I got inside, the public session had been canceled (because I hadn’t thought to confirm it).
Sweet 16, huh?
Making friends and starting new relationships with people has always been difficult for me, and it still is. That is why I treasure the few relationships that I have greatly.
David and I have been traveling for almost two years.
While we traveled, I kept close contact with my grandparents, especially my grandfather (one of the most influential people in my life), texting, sending photos, and calling my grandparents whenever we landed in a new spot.
I didn’t miss Texas while we were on the road, but I did miss the good people we left behind when we hit the road -my friends and family.
When March rolled around this year, I was excited to kick off my birthday month, and I even scheduled myself a few extra days off on my birthday weekend (planning a 4 day weekend for the first time in several months).
Because we live in a small space (and most people in my life don’t have much to spare), I discourage people from giving me stuff (which takes up space we don’t have) for my birthdays.
This year, after an extended period away, the one thing I wanted was to spend time with my grandparents.
However, my grandfather, who was like a father to me, suddenly became ill and passed away earlier this month, and now I don’t feel like celebrating without him.

This birthday, which I was excited about, has become one I am indifferent to.
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