Tomorrow is my birthday! I will be 33 years old. Wow. I remember when I had a notebook in which I counted all the days until I turned sixteen (I was twelve at the time and thought sixteen would be a magical age–how wrong I was and how many days I had before I found that out!). It’s almost hard to fathom my age or the “fine lines” appearing on my face or the fact that I’ve got kids and a husband and pets to feed. The older I get, the more complicated my feelings about birthdays become.
So why not write about it? And why not drag you along with me?
That’s our writing prompt for today: birthdays. Whatever it means to you, whatever ideas it conjures. At least five minutes. Go.
The Sensitive, Bookish Type 