The wheel has turned for me again.
Birthdays are so weird as an adult. When you’re between milestones, it’s basically just another day, except everyone gets to ask you how old you are. And then tell you you’re just a baby/pup/kid/etc.
After working in the death industry for a decade, I’m acutely aware of just how young I am. And how many people have died before reaching the age I am now.
Every day is precious, waking up tomorrow is not a given. When KidMakes asks me if I’m going to die, I have to be honest with her. That I don’t know, I don’t want to die, but we don’t know what’s going to happen. And then I remind her how much I love her, and how important it is to let the people you love know that you love them.
Because we just don’t know.
Thank you, for reading. Thank you, for commenting. Thank you for bearing witness.
Perhaps I’ll spend the next Truthy Tuesday exploring how weird birthdays are when you’re adopted.