Circling back to the point of all that, my birthday is on Saturday. And I know I shouldn't put pressure on the day or expect much out of it, but I keep having this fleeting anxiety that I am going to be celebrating it alone. Last year, Randi took me out with a small group of friends (the ones who could get the night off work) to dinner and drinks after. It was nothing extraordinary and no huge planning was involved, but she made such an effort for me to feel important that day. She bought this little tiara and sash from the party store and they sang to me and I blew out a candle, and this entire week when people ask me what my plan is for this year, it's her smiling face that flashes across my memory. And it's making me really sad.
I was telling another girlfriend earlier today that it's just another day of the year and it's not going to be a big deal, and her response was that me being born was reason to celebrate. Not only did I burst into happy tears that I have such amazing friends in my life, but it reminded me why people like birthdays in the first place. It's not just another day, it's MY day. It's my day to be reminded that another year of beautiful, chaotic, cherished life has passed and I am lucky enough to have the upcoming one.
I know Randi isn't going to physically be there to have a tequila shot and sing (very badly) to me. But she's there in my heart, my mind, and my loved ones. And that's definitely worth celebrating.