Happy Birthday to Me

Today is my birthday. I am 54 years old. 54. Holy cow. And as much as I want to say, “How the heck did that happen?” I know exactly how it happened.  As my daughter starts high school, and my niece starts a paid internship that may be a new path for her, I am thinking about the path that brought me here–“here” being a pretty amazing place. I am more fortunate than I deserve. I have a terrific family and great friends, free from drama. I love what I do, and am awed by the beauty of where I live.

I watch the bumps and metaphorical bruises of my daughter and niece and remember mine at 14 and 21. And as much as I wish that they never had to encounter another difficult moment, I know it’s the difficult moments—and how you respond to them—that make you the grown-up you are.

So shoulder on, my beautiful girls!  Enjoy the HELL out of high school!  Kick BUTT at that internship!  And don’t let anything or anyone get in the way of your success–especially yourself!!

People joke all the time about this being my 29th or 39th birthday again. I am 54.  And damn proud of it.

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