Yesterday was Brian's birthday.
We acknowledged the day with a smile, and went out for dinner at Lemongrass, a nice Asian-fusion restaurant. I drove and abstained from drinking (too much)! Other than that, it was an uneventful yet pleasant day. I think Brian enjoyed it.
When I was (much much) younger, my own birthday was an excuse to party; to over-imbibe and dance until the bars threw me out at 4 a.m. Now, I'm very happy to treat myself to a quiet night in, a large all-dressed pizza, and a subtle bottle of fine red wine.
Why is it that when we get older, birthdays seem less significant? Less of a "special occasion"? Are we just tired? Or are we more mature and no longer have a driving need to feel special, to be the centre of the universe?
I think it's because we realize that a truly special day is about spending time with yourself, and not "on the stage"....
2 comments:
Happy birthday, baby brother!
Happy birthday Brian.
A mountain does not know how old it is, it simply is. It seems to me that as we get older we become more like mountains and less like children.
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