And I’ve managed to keep breathing for another year.
Which doesn’t really seem to me like an accomplishment.
Not everyone gets the chance to see another birthday…
But like my mom used to say, “It’s just another day Paul…”
When I was younger, I’d buy my mother a present for my birthday and explain that she was the one who’d done all the heavy lifting, not I.
She liked this little tradition.
When I was in elementary school, I would tell classmates that I was born a year and one day after President Kennedy was assassinated.
“Wow” they’d say. Which of course (as an ignorant kid), is what I was going for.
As if that was something I had any control over or that the terrible event was something that I wanted to be associated with. I think I was probably in the 7th grade before I stopped telling people about my “association” with Kennedy.
I am, however, just happy to be here and to maybe see another sunset.