My friend Cheryl texted me about her birthday. She was noticing that her age, the number ascribed to her by the calendar, seemed young to her now.  She didn’t feel old, the image she used to have of someone in their late 60’s.  It got me to musing……and this is what I wrote:

It’s my birthday and I’ll cry if I want to….*

Will I start hanging out in coffee
houses hoping for conversation?
Volunteer at soup kitchens just
for something to do?

Will people see me in the garden
bending over – a cliche?
Or maybe I’ll discover my right
brain, another Grandma Moses.

Will I succumb and buy some
plastic surgeon his next BMW?
Or, will I just relax,
surrendering to each moment?

Do what I’m doing  but with
a little more awareness.
Slow down enough to
really taste my food.

Feel the sun on my skin.
And maybe wear what
I want simply because
I feel good in it.

Birthdays are reminders.
That it is our life to live,
and to notice when we try
to live someone else’s.

It’s my birthday and
I’ll cry if I want to….
my tears will not be of sorrow
but for the joy of being me.

*adapted from:
“It’s my party, and I’ll cry if I want to
Cry if I want to, cry if I want to
You would cry too if it happened to you.”
sung by Lesley Gore – It’s My Party