Since my last post, I am now another year older. Wiser? Doubt that, but older yes. What is it about ageing that somehow still makes me get a tiny weeny bit excited in the morning of my birthday? Is it the anticipation of a day that is special and filled with lots of attention from friends (the regular ones and the long lost ones that wish you once a year and vice versa) or is it just the ongoing excitement of life and all it’s curve-balls and boomerangs it throws at us?
I’ve got to say, this year, like every year, I just felt grateful to still be here as life is simply put, temperamental. I felt last night as I went to sleep, that I was truly a very lucky woman. Blessed with a roof over my head, a loving family, a wonderful meal with my OH and stunning views of the most beautiful city in the world.
As I mulled over the day and the night, I began to realise that although we did get completely and utterly soaked in the downpour of rain (I stupidly forgot my umbrella), at least we got to feel the rain on our heads and run to a home. Some people aren’t that lucky.
So to everyone who wished me, I thank you so very much, because each wish, is a reminder that people actually care that I was born.