Wednesday was my birthday, and I could do anything I wanted. So I thought about it and thought about it. But I couldn’t think of anything I wanted more than to do what I always do on a Wednesday.
We had the same breakfast we always do (some combination of oatmeal, eggs, toast, yogurt and granola). We ate a normal lunch at home. I did dishes and a bit of sewing. I washed clothes and hung them to dry. I took a walk with Reed and stayed up too late reading. I sat and drank tea and watched sun pour through the windows. I smiled at Adam. It was a normal day. It was the day I have again and again. Nothing is sweeter. And I spent all day smiling.
In the end, I think it was the best birthday I’ve ever had. I can’t think of a better gift than realizing that the day I want most is the day I have again and again. A day with eggs and work and affection and rest and play. What richness that is.