Today I turn 39 years old. My hair looks more gray. My eyes look more tired and have more wrinkles. I have lost a lot of strength. My vision is also beginning to deteriorate. I know, I know… turning 39 is not the same as turning 50. But this post is not about how old I am beginning to feel. It is more about the birthdays themselves.
The only people who have actually taken the initiative and effort to wish me happy birthday in person are my wife and children, and my mother. Everyone else has done it through a more indirect source, particularly Facebook. How convenient it is to wish someone to have a good day without having to pick up a phone or visit me .
But don’t get me wrong, I really don’t care about my birthday. In actuality, it is just like any other day. We create the notion of celebrating the day that we are born every time the earth orbits around the sun. But that is ok. I would rather celebrate life itself to the fullest every day of the year. For some reason, people find it necessary or entertaining to celebrate anniversaries and birthdays. It makes us feel better about ourselves and helps us nourish our egos. But I am not a party pooper either. I celebrate by children’s birthday every year as well. I guess I have been part of the tradition. But I recognize it is not the end of the world if one day everyone forgets the day in the calendar that I had the first breath.
When I turn 40 next year, I guess it will be a bigger deal. Simply because it is 40. We will see. Thanks for taking the time to read this random post. Share you ideas if you wish.