Every year, it comes around and each year I react somewhat similarly and somewhat differently. This year, on my birthday (which was yesterday), I was in my most blah mood.
Why? Because I had been working on the weekend before. Yes, Saturday and Sunday. So instead of feeling lazy, relaxed or (god-forbid) happy, I woke up on Monday morning, despairing the fact that my birthday was likely to be not-so-much-fun.
So, I woke up, got out of bed, dragged a comb across my head... Looking up I realised I was late, and rushed to work.
After a dull, dragging day at work, I got home, and found candles, and home made cake and Grover Washington Jr on the stereo, and A dressed up gorgeously (in only the way she can), and almost (though not quite) immediately, I felt happier. It was my birthday after all.
We didn't go out for dinner, like we thought we might. We didn't have friends over, like we often do. But somehow, feeling relaxed after a tense week(end) and day, remembering the good things of life, I feel that I had a birthday I could remember after all!
And I can still dream about beaches of Goa for my next birthday, can't I?
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1 comment:
Baby!! We'll celebrate properly this weekend! Love you, love you, love you.
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