Happy Birthday to Me

Today is my birthday. I am forty one years old. Who on the planet ever dreams that they will be forty one? Certainly not me. I don't know what I expected; that at twenty or thirty or forty, God would finally take notice of the passing of time and reach down from the Heavens and demand that an impenetrable bubble be place around me inside which I could never age? Heh, well, I didn't expect it but it's kind of a nice thought.

I suppose being forty one wouldn't be so bad if I had any sense of personal progress. Most people have spouses and children and homes of their own by now, some even have grandchildren. Most have been working in jobs that have something to do with who they are as people for quite some time. Most are located in an area that seems commensurate with their character, and feel "at home" in that place.

None of these things can be said to apply to me.

This is not a case of "poor little me"...I have made my own bed, that's for sure. But we all do what we can and think is right at the time and it's hard to know what the future will bring or how it will all affect us. I have felt so lost and adrift since my mom died...I get through my days, but that's about it. I'm kind of like a puppet that is just animated by things it needs to do, that it is prompted to do, and that's about all. No spark, no living breathing force within it. Maybe that will change eventually, who knows?

This is my first birthday alone and it stinks. Three people remembered it; I guess I shouldn't complain, a lot of people in the world have NO ONE remembering their birthdays, or can't even remember it themselves. I guess you can't help but think about your own death at a time like this. Getting into middle age now, your parents gone, and you are alone. It's a scary, strange existence.

I guess the thing to do is to try and make it better.