When we’re young, Birthdays are the second most exciting
days of the year. They are only beat out
by Christmas. It’s a day of Presents and
cake and parties. Most importantly, it
is a day that is all about you. Even
Christmas can’t do that. When we’re
young, we can barely wait for birthdays to come around. Then we get older, and we start to dread
them.
Why is that? What happens
that causes birthdays to lose their magic?
Perhaps the problem is that we fear getting old. When were young, getting older is a good thing. It means being able to do more things:
Staying up late, driving, getting out on our own, paying bills (though this one
quickly loses its charm). But after we
turn about 21, the mile stones become less exciting and more daunting. I remember when I turned 25, how shocking it
was to think that I was a quarter of a century.
This was possibly the hardest age I’ve yet turned. It was about this time that I decided that I wouldn’t
worry about the numbers any more; I would just enjoy the birthday. I would look at the day as I did when I was a
kid. Just an exciting day that was all
about me . . . and I got presents.
Unfortunately, this proved to be easier said than done. As this year’s birthday approached, I could
feel the birthday blues creeping in on me.
To be honest, it baffles me.
Logically I know that the numbers really don’t matter. It’s all relative. When I’m home at my apartment, I’m one of the
oldest. Most of my roommates are younger
than me. There are times there that I
feel old. At work, I’m the
youngest. They even sometimes refer to
me as “youngen” (Affectionately. . . I think).
Despite that, there are times when my co workers act younger then I
do. (No disrespect to any of them, I
hold all of them in the highest respect and regard.) There are also times that I act younger then
my roommates.
The fact is, age is all relative, but if we are so afraid of
getting old that we fail to take joy in things like birthdays, then we are already old.
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