“they say it’s your birthday…da-nana-nana-nana”

My mom ALWAYS sings that Beatles song on birthdays. Today is my birthday. I am 23. Yesterday I came home from work to find a mailbox full of cards, and a small box of gifts from my parents, all a day early! I’m spoiled rotten. I cried for nearly an hour. Perhaps I was a little homesick, perhaps because I finally felt the impending doom of today, perhaps I felt like I am undeserving of the love that was showered upon me by my parents, siblings, various other family members, and messages from amazing friends. I felt a little like Sally Field: “You like me! You really, really like me!” And though most people make fun of her for that moment, I know what kind of awe she was feeling: you can’t believe that many people can like you that much. And yesterday, it made me a basket case.

Birthdays can be a weird thing: I, believe it or not, have usually shied away from being the center of attention. I much prefer to share the spotlight. Nevertheless, on your birthday you are the center of a lot of love, and you realize just HOW MUCH you love everyone else. Perhaps that was the reason for the tears: when I acknowledge the trueness of pure love, I can’t but cry for happiness.

Best gift a girl could get? My mom filled out a recipe book for me. Some of my favorites from her recipe book, but in my own, with her handwriting. Open the floodgates. God, I can be sentimental.

Thanks everyone, from the bottom of my heart. I love you all so very much.