Today is my birthday. Traditionally I love my birthday as I I aist upon being doted upon by everybody in my family. For a single day of the year I aspire to avoid preparing dinners, lunches or breakfasts. (Well, in an ideal world I would love to opt out entirely from all adult responsibilities, but it never really happens.)
This year the anticipation of my birthday has only brought tears. Our family is healing and is still too traumatized from the heart attack and scared of the future to enjoy a birthday, especially mine.
50 has not been kind to us. I want to hide from 51.
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