Today is my birthday. It’s a good day. Wait, it’s a great day.
Above me sits the birthday gift I received from my gorgeous friend, Shelva. It reads, “Unleash your joy. Embrace your truth. Pick more wild flowers. Leap fearlessly. Collect moments of kindness. Ask for what you need. Speak of your gratitude. Listen to forgiveness. Surround yourself with good people. Trust your creative spirit. Wear red shoes. Let it go.” A better writer’s manifesto I could not imagine for this day.
This morning, when I woke, there was a box on the counter. A tiny rock sat on top – a rock roughly in the shape of a heart with a white vein of granite running through black shale. Dad said, “The white line is your mom holding the two of us together.” Beneath it was his card to me, a beautiful testament of love. And beneath that was a photo box full of . . . candles with names like Upgrade, Drift Away, and Hard2Handle. “I picked them by title, not scent,” Dad said. Yep, that seems about right.
Tonight I will dine with a dear friend, and I know we will laugh. Tomorrow, many of those I hold dearest will come to the farm, let me talk about my book (just a little I promise), eat delicious food, and play with me by the fire. We will party . . . and we will eat.
All night last night, my phone buzzed quietly as I slept, the little birthday wishes of Facebook lulling me in my dreams.
Some days, it’s isolating to be a writer, to spend so many hours alone with little face-to-face time with people I love. But today, when my world is full of so many blessings – candles, friends, food, and the time given to do all of these things – these are the best presents for a writer, for this writer at least.
May your every day be one-tenth as blessed as my birthday has been already.