A Year

Birthdays are good for you.  Statistics show that the people who have the most live the longest.  

Larry Lorenzoni

Every year I am happier that Adam and I share the same birthday.  When I married him, I assured myself a happy birthday every year (and a happy 364 days between as well).

Birthdays make me think.  Where have I been in the last year?

Since March 23 last year, I have been...
busy,
happy,
sad,
shocked,
discouraged,
hopeful,
nostalgic,
grumpy,
sleepy,
energetic,
and
excited.

I have tried new things (sending my children to school!) and started things I haven't done for a long time (running).  I have done the same thing over and over and over (laundry, dishes).  I have gone to new places (Yellowstone) and revisited old haunts (Connecticut) and continued going to the same places over and over and over (the grocery store).

I have learned new things and remembered things I've known all along.  I have worried about people and sent emails and made phone calls and sent telepathic messages to people I love.  (I'm not sure the latter worked, but maybe?)  I've tried new recipes and made the same ones I've made so many times I don't need a recipe.  I have talked and laughed and cried with people who love me.  I have listened to music and read books and watched movies.  I have prayed. I have been on road trips and celebrated holidays.  I have pulled weeds and watered flowers and cleaned toilets and emptied the dishwasher.  I have decorated for Christmas and packed all the decorations away again.

As I suspected, using Benefit cosmetics brows a-go-go didn't change my life like the woman at the make-up counter promised it would.

(I do like it though.)

It's been a typical year.

It's been an extraordinary year.

It's been 365 days and I'm happy to have been alive.

 And in the end, it's not the years in your life that count.  It's the life in your years.

Abraham Lincoln