There were a string of kind wishes for my birthday this week. It was marvelous to hear and read them. All manner of benevolent blessings, from "joyful" and "remarkable" to "special" and "lovely".
Birthdays are a handy reminder to pay attention to the people we care about. As we plod along in our routines, it can
nudge us to a new level of appreciation, as the attention swivels around the room. Everyone has their turn, though twins do have to share.
There is a woman who knows a lot of birth dates. On any morning of the year she can rattle off a few, both of famous folks and friends. I love quizzing her.
"Whose birthday is it today, Maggie?" She will look off to the left, and name a fistful. Just for fun, I texted her. Not that I will be putting
stamps on any cards, mind you.
She wrote back.
"Kinky's. And Todd's daughter's. And Hilary's grandchild's due date."
Another of the greetings that came my way was more simple.
"Have a wonderful day. Or just.... a day!"
Sometimes just an ordinary trip around the sun is worthwhile too. Eating beside someone whose company is familiar. Watching their car pull into
the driveway. Hearing their feet on the stairs, and anticipating their face. Not a day that revolved around an epic vacation, or buying new furniture. Not even an abundance of food, but just enough.
This week there was a memorial service for a man who died too young. In the pews there were people who have cheated Death. Skittered out of reach, leaving Him with only a fistful of their yanked out hair. A few hundred neighbors, coworkers, and relatives gathered around
tables packed with all manner of delectables to tell stories, and look at pictures of his life. Such events are dear, in how they bring someone to the center of the spotlight. In fact I know more about him now than I did last week. In that knowledge, I care more too. But he is gone.
I have a feeling that his wife would be grateful for one more unremarkable day of seeing his face. Hearing his footsteps. Watching his car turn into the
driveway.