I swear my birthday used to be on the first day of fall, but the past several years (or longer), it’s landed on the last day of summer. At least once in college it fell on the first day of school, but that was so long ago I can’t remember when.
For the first time since I became a mother, I spent my birthday without my kids. (I think – my memory is bad. But since it’s how I remember it, does it really matter if I’m wrong?) I saw Willow briefly, she brought me flowers, and the other kids sang me Happy Birthday over the phone three or four times in a row, while I sat with my cell phone, feet up, beer in my hand, about to eat a really (really) great dinner.
I missed them, but ended up having a nearly perfect day. It started with bacon and coffee at Gwendomama’s with Jen, Squid, and the (blogless) BOS, and ended with presents and that really great dinner, and truly the best sleep I’ve had in awhile. In between the start and end there was gluten-free beer, a late-afternoon trip through the foothills in the most incredible light, music, and reclaimed furniture:
I’m going to use it to store the kids’ art supplies in the living room. It’s purple and lime green, and it rocks ten ways to Sunday. (I know that’s not the phrase, but there it is all the same)
Most of all, though, I’m starting a new life. It’s so hard to write about this stuff without sounding like a dumbass, but new starts are gifts. I’m feeling hopeful and happy. I have a lot to look forward to.