Age is a tricky subject for a lot of people. An older relative of mine once had a complete meltdown because she was turning fifty. Naomi and I were teenagers and we felt very embarrassed and uncomfortable to see an adult acting that way.
Birthdays for me are like markers on the road of life and I like to acknowledge them no matter how many I have. I don’t mean I want a big party or lots of presents although of course presents are nice. I just don’t want it to be “just another day”. Naomi and I usually plan some little outing or at least cook a special meal at home to celebrate our birthdays. Sometimes life intervenes and things don’t work out like the year that Naomi had a car problem on the way to our lunch get together and had to cancel at the last minute or the very sad year that my mother in law died or the one where David was in hospital but three or four sad ones out of sixty plus is not so bad.
Up until we moved to Tasmania my birthday often fell on a holiday. School holidays were in May and there was a Public Holiday around that time as well so even when I was working I often had it free. Strangely enough, after we moved away, that South Australian Public Holiday was moved from May to March.
My friend Gillian and I are exactly two weeks apart in age and we started a habit of celebrating our milestone birthdays, zeros and fives, together, especially after we moved to different states.
One year David and I drove to Canberra for Gillian’s birthday, next time Gillian and her husband Bruce came to Tasmania and we all went to Strahan on the west coast for the weekend. Last year it was my turn again and I went to spend the weekend in Melbourne with them.
I have never consciously thought about it but I guess I see birthdays as a time to celebrate life.