Have you ever forgotten your own birthday? Have you ever wanted to?
Last week, a coworker suggested we have lunch sometime this week. She suggested Thursday. We have a standing conference call every Thursday morning that lasts about two hours, and it drives her crazy. So, I, not really thinking it through, asked if she was expecting this week's call to be especially horrendous. "No, you know,...it's July 24...."
Oh. Yeah. It is my birthday, isn't it? Two years ago, I would have spent the entire month leading up to my birthday planning out some new cake flavor combo or recipe, complete with piped frosting or even fondant. This year, I picked up a cake mix that I may or may not make.
These days, I only think of my birthday in an abstract way. It's another day, but more than anything, it ushers in the week leading up to Morgan's day on July 28. Rather than think of my own cake, I wonder what kind of cake she'd like. Would a two year old really have any kind of preference? Chocolate only, like her Daddy? Would she be able to pick her own party theme? I'll never, ever know.
What I do know is that I miss my little birthday girl terribly. The day to day is OK, but times like this are the worst.